Hunter's Moon
by JasonCulhane
Summary: Jason Culhane has led a troubled life, living with an unloving family and little hope for his future. His one anchor is his little sister Chloe. However, an encounter with the supernatural hurls him into a life he never thought possible or one he wanted.
1. Chapter 1  Reminisce

PREFACE

And there I was, face to face with her. I looked her straight into the eye and remembered her face well, as though I had taken a snapshot through my eyes. There she stood. The one who had made me all I was. She who had made me into something I could never have imagined was possible. She who had changed me, who had changed everything. And in that moment all I wanted to do was kill her.

1. REMINISCE

I returned to Kilkee every once in a while. Before I learned to drive it was with my parents but of late I'd found my visits becoming more frequent. Perhaps my memories there had been fonder, a legacy of happiness from my childhood. Something that I held close through the roughest of my days. Yet there is only so much comfort a candle can bring you in a blizzard.

The blizzard of course was life in Galway City.

As a place to live it would definitely not have been my first choice. It was a city of culture and of music, festivals and partying in the summer months but for me that was a façade. If you looked passed the outward portrayal it was no different than any other big town or city. Hustle and bustle, traffic, nine to five jobs and suburbia. Why my parents, Martin and Orla, opted to live here rather than commute the two hours to work from our old hometown was beyond me. It was for the convenience they had told me and they made no effort to sugarcoat the whole event of moving there. To me there was nothing _convenient_ about being ripped from my home, my town, my school and all my friends and transplanted to this alien world of brick, cement and tarmac.

I was ten at the time and perhaps I had no concept then of how stressful work was and that this was so much easier for them. Yet their gleefulness over finally being able to realise their long awaited dream of living in a nice house in the city was somehow insulting to me, aggravating.

Our rented two-storey house where I had grown up with my older brother Kevin and my younger sister Chloe was cosy but had two huge gardens that I wiled away many a day with my many themed versions of common games like catch and hide and seek. It was almost in the country; not right in the middle of town but near enough that the beach was within walking distance. It was as though the world was wide and open and everyday there was another adventure to be had, and because Kilkee wasn't absolutely tiny there were always a lot of other kids to share them with. Contrast Galway City with that picture and you would have its polar opposite.

The house we moved into, although bigger, was one of several dozen clone buildings in our "housing estate" and had two puny lawns that certainly did not deserve the honour of being referred to as gardens. That meant nowhere to play because we weren't allowed out on the streets. My room was a good deal bigger, too, but being stuck there for most of my free time made it seem like a cage. No amount of square footage could ever suffice when compared to my old room with its big windows open on the world, the endless rolling fields of green, and ever-changing sky.

For all the disadvantages of suburban living, they paled in comparison to school life. My primary school back in Kilkee had no more than twenty people per class; it was brightly coloured with artwork everywhere and the teachers answered all your questions no matter how ridiculous. Here my 4th class teacher, Ms. Willis, was a major battleaxe with a chip on her shoulder that almost physically made her lean to one side. She obviously hated her job and simply expected her students to sit quietly, listening to her drone on for six hours and not interrupting her unless it was a dire emergency. Woe betide the poor child who raised a hand or spoke out of turn, as it was always only her turn to speak.

The other children were not much better. In fact they were invariably worse. I was short and a little weedy for my age and my sallow skin, light blue eyes and dirty blonde hair made me look vulnerable...and therefore a target. I remember the first boy I introduced myself to in the school playground. He was much taller despite being my age and had been watching me in class, smiling weirdly. Naïve as I was, I misinterpreted derision for friendliness.

My introduction went as follow: "Hello, my name's Jason Culhane. What's yours?"

"What's it to you, dwarf boy?"

Taken aback I stammered, "I...ah...just...am."

The boy laughed. "Haha, hey everyone, dwarf boy's gotta speech problem, too. Sure you're in the right class?"

"Wha-what do you mean?"

"Like maybe you should be in low infants, or special needs!"

I didn't understand him. I had never known this kind of bullying back in Kilkee. I didn't even know what a bully really was until then. A crowd had gathered round and I was getting laughed at by kids even younger than I was. So I thought maybe I'd had a bad experience, maybe I had just picked the one jackass in the bunch. However the following weeks saw many of my attempts at making friends being rebuffed with cold shoulders, verbal abuse, or a good thump now and then. It was disheartening and over the year that followed I became more and more reclusive. My workaholic parents never noticed though, too busy furthering their careers to pick up on my sudden seclusion.

Kevin was always different than me in almost every sense. He was fourteen when we moved and so attended secondary school. He was the apple of mommy and daddy's eye and that particular fruit didn't fall too far from the tree. He was a go-getter, an overachiever, and worst of all an attention-seeker. He always got good grades and all the parents' praise. To me he was like a shape shifter. No matter what the situation or stress he was under, he could adapt and make the best of it. Socially that meant he always had friends and was a hit with the girls. Envy would be an inadequate description of my feelings towards him.

As my eleventh birthday came and went without much notice, I knew I always had my little sister when the going got tough. Though she was only four at the time she managed to go to a corner shop down the street, buy my favourite chocolate swissroll with her few euros of pocket money, and stick one of our oversized, decorative candles in it. She knocked on my bedroom door where I lay upon my bed, hoping to sleep through this, and presented it to me with a pack of matches.

She said, "Happy birthday big brother! I wanted to light the candle but I was too afraid in case it burned me."

I smiled, but gave her a firm talking to for what she'd done. It was a testament to my mom's and dad's excellent parenting skills that their four-year old daughter could escape the house, walk down the block to a shady corner shop, prepare a birthday cake and grab a pack of matches without their noticing. Don't get me wrong. I loved my parents. It was just I didn't understand why they'd chosen to_ be _parents. Clearly their primary concerns were their careers, my father a doctor and my mother the science department head at the university.

Kevin was just like them in every conceivable way and would probably rise quickly through the ranks of any profession he chose. He even looked more like them. His hair was perfectly straight and white blonde with sharp eyes of the deepest imaginable blue. He was built tall like my dad, and I often teased he got his pretty boy looks from mom. Chloe looked more like me, eyes that were almost baby blue and hair that rippled in alternating strands of golden tones to almost dark brown. Some people, especially kids my age then, might consider having such a meaningful relationship with your kid sister as being pathetic. I didn't, not for a moment, and even if I did who else was there? My parents and elder brother were so focussed on their goals that Chloe and I fell to the periphery. Our physical needs were always met and we had everything we wanted, but emotionally we could never count on them.

Kevin especially was aloof from us, as though we did not share the same blood in our veins. It was probably also the reason Chloe looked up to me so much, because her other elder sibling intimidated her and had no time for her. I had to admit I felt the same about him sometimes. Although he never overtly criticised or bullied me, his manner always conveyed a hint of shame. I was always drawn in by the fanciful and loved stories, the genres of fantasy, science fiction and horror especially. I could immerse myself in tales endlessly and be completely content in my little cage as long as I had reading material. Music, space, travel, nature were all amongst my multitude of fascinations.

All Kevin could ever say was, "What good's any of that ever gonna do you?"

Things grew steadily worse in Galway as fifth and sixth class passed me by and secondary school loomed. At the age of thirteen I had yet to make a single friend and the bullying grew so intense at times that I just ditched it and walked the city streets for the six hours. My parents' only concern when the school called was how badly my absence had reflected upon them, as though they couldn't keep tabs on their own children. _You can't_. I could never admit that I was picked on by my fellow students. They'd likely only tell me to toughen up and that it was good character building.

One day on a particularly miserable February morning towards the end of sixth class, I sneaked back to Kilkee on the bus just to get away from it all. Once again, despite the firm talking to I received from my parents, I had gone during school hours. The bus ride through the country was peaceful. Rain slapped against my window obscuring all but shades of colour that I discerned as trees, fields and buildings. The road was often bumpy but it caused a rocking motion that was relaxing like a child held by a loving mother. The school had been ordered to report my absence immediately if I'd skipped. Yet it would be a long time before I was found. I had left every trapping of my city existence behind.

No phone, no wallet, no keys.

Just money and a change of clothes which I donned in the bus station bathroom. I discarded my uniform in the litterbin as a final insult to that hellhole institution that had taken three years of my life. The bus trip took substantially longer than a car ride and I had to meet a connecting bus in Ennis. I didn't mind though. It gave me plenty of time to think through my options once I got there. After mulling them over for three hours I came to several disheartening conclusions. I couldn't meet my friends because they were all still in school. I couldn't go to their homes because their parents would immediately contact my mom and dad. I couldn't even really go into town because everyone would recognise me.

So that left one option.

The "Woods" was where my friends and I always had the most fun. It was a small copse just outside of the town limits, occupying what was once pastureland. A few dozen young ash and sycamore trees were spread randomly over about three acres of land intermixed with hawthorn and alder bushes. They were perfect for climbing and often we challenged each other seeing who could reach the highest but most hadn't the guts to climb past the lowest branches.

The Woods was a place of adventure and imagination where our many scenarios came to life in a greater sense somehow. Perhaps it was our isolation from the outside world in this our own little microcosm that fed the mind fires that constructed medieval worlds of knights and kingdoms or prehistoric jungles filled with ravenous beasts. In this place time became irrelevant and we were often retrieved by irritated parents. I jumped off the bus on the last stop before town which meant walking for twenty minutes in the rain which had lessened to a drizzle, all the same it was clingy and unpleasant. I was glad I had not forgotten my jacket.

Having trudged along the narrow road through muck and puddles I finally came into view of my much missed playground. Nothing much had changed. The trees seemed a bit bigger and the undergrowth denser than what I remembered. A rusted iron gate futilely guarded the once tame field from any who dared enter it. Clambering over the gate my hands were made a patchwork of rust fragments and my feet landed straight in ankle-deep mucky water from an overflowing roadside dike. Still I laboured on, knowing the whole field would probably be a sinkhole.

I followed a mud path cleared of grass by constant passers through to the centre of the field where perhaps the most exciting aspect of this little world lay. An abandoned farmstead made of non-worked stones and mortar crumbled into rubble and attached was a completely rusted farm shed. It looked worse than I remembered. The chimney had collapsed in and knocked out a large portion of wall on the three adjacent sides. I was relieved no one had been hurt because my more daring friends often ventured inside claiming the house was haunted and they could convince the ghosts to come out and get us.

I glanced around to find other unwelcome changes.

A tyre swing we hung up ourselves from a low ash tree near the old house hung from one last tautened thread. The campfire we built using big rocks as seats and smaller ones to ring our imagined fire was overgrown and almost out of sight. Then I ran. I ran behind the house and followed the muddy trail splattering the thick sludge all up the back of my jeans. Then I saw it and my body fell limp.

The tree house was a wreck.

We had convinced our parents to help us build a tree house with two separate rooms on neighbouring sycamore trees and have them connected by a rope bridge. It wasn't far off the ground, perhaps six feet, still it was our cubby and our headquarters where we devised all our schemes. The rope bridge was ripped and tangled and barely hanging on. The timber tree houses had buckled and were missing planks as the tree limbs encroached upon them. Ivy added insult to injury as it crept over the remnant structures. It was a gut wrenching sight but maybe I should have anticipated it.

My friends had grown older, too, and most of them moved on a lot faster than me. The likelihood was that they hadn't been back here since I'd left. It was a kick in the teeth but they had grown and were passed this stage. Perhaps I only held on because at least they had the chance to grow out of childish games and fantastical notions. For me, I was torn from my imagined world prematurely and dropped in a bemused heap into the real one. As I trudged back towards the campfire I plopped myself down upon a frigid, wet stone and threw my head into my lap with arms folded around to block out the desolation all around that mocked me. I sat there for a long while, tearing up but never wailing.

It was several hours before I sprung up and realised I'd drifted off. What woke me were the massive rain drops pounding down upon me like water balloons. I scurried for the shelter of a tree but without leaves it didn't serve well in that capacity. The sky was darkening as the days were still very short. It was well after school hours and my parents were probably frantic. _Good! For once they might feel some concern for the well-being of their child. Perhaps I should runaway altogether and save myself the horrors of attending another torture house like my primary school._

Still, my ruthlessness was stifled by my better judgement and thoughts of my little sister. My parents and Kevin would kill me when I came home but at least Chloe would be happy to see me back. I could never hurt her by disappearing like that. She could never forgive me. I wouldn't forgive me. Above all else I couldn't see her ignored and her imagination muffled like mine was. I would be there for her until both of us could fend for ourselves and we didn't need our family anymore. With that in mind, my next job was to figure out how the hell I was getting home.

It was half six according to my watch and the next bus back to Ennis was in less than five minutes. With the town centre the closest, I'd have to make it there by then despite it being more than ten minutes away. After that there was another hour wait for the connecting bus to Galway. I had brought only the money for my return ticket which was sodden in my jeans pocket. After that there was another twenty minute shuttle bus ride to my housing estate and a five minute walk from the stop home. So I was in for a journey and at the end of it I faced the wrath of my family and the authorities who they likely had called. Still, if I didn't make this bus I wasn't going home tonight, so I sprinted through my withered, barren dreamland and hopped the gate onto the flooding road landing with a splash.

The rain pounded down in torrents that immersed me in a frigid film and soaked me to the skin. The sky was pitch black as thunderous storm clouds moved in obscuring the last shimmers of light cast by a retreating sun. The downpour was relentless and blasted into my face with every gust of wind. Water ran down my forehead and collected in my eyebrows where it dripped frequently in my eyes. I blinked like I was having a fit but it was useless. My muscles felt stiff and my whole body was tremulous, frozen by the raw wind, icy rain, and the bitter air.

I convinced myself I didn't have far to go even though I was inching along and would never get to town on time. Failing the bus, I could drop in on one of my friends and call home from there. I was quickly losing my pace, though, and my legs refused to budge. It took all my strength just to keep standing. My eyes stung from the amount of liquid that flowed over them. My cheeks, nose, and ears were so cold they hurt. My teeth chattered so hard I feared dislodging one of my many fillings. I shuffled sideways trying to force blood into my legs by simple movement but for my efforts I was rewarded with massive gusts of wind that chilled my very soul. My legs finally had taken enough. They buckled and I found myself kneeling on the eroded tarmac.

I had no idea where I was.

My eyes squinted incessantly, but it was too dark to see anything anyway. I felt like sleeping, but somehow I knew that was a desire best ignored given the circumstances. I sat there dazed for an immeasurable amount of time. My only point of reference was the faint lights of Kilkee to the southwest. I could continue just trekking towards them. The road would wind its way there eventually, but my muscles were unresponsive and every concerted effort I made to stand was met with a disturbing numbness. I checked my watch.

It read 6:35 p.m.

Too late, and the cherry upon my cake of misery was the digital display flickering and suddenly flashing off. So much for being bloody waterproof, my parents had probably gotten it out of a twenty cent machine. I had no idea what I was doing. I was sitting in a back road in the middle of nowhere and just wallowing in my own self-pity and several inches of rainwater. I had even forgotten what I was hoping to achieve by coming here. Besides the act of rebellion, there wasn't much else to it. Subconsciously my occasionally logical mind had ruled out meeting friends and strolling round town before I'd even got here. I even had suspicions, though I wouldn't admit it to myself, that I would find the Woods in such a state. This had been a gigantic waste of time that had dragged me further into the abyss of anguish. A few stray tears mixed with the pounding rain.

I was still there after seven or so I guessed.

There was a lull in the cloudburst but the winds had grown stronger, creating mini waves in the puddles that lapped against me. Then things went from bad to worse.

It hailed.

The tiny pellets of white ice were no bigger than a pea but boy did they sting. They showered down so densely that it felt like I had been swarmed by angry wasps. I rolled onto my side in shock from the sudden rush of sensation and quickly found my limbs to be functional, at least in a limited sense. I stumbled and tripped forward thinking I was running for the shelter of a line of trees I'd seen earlier from a distance. In reality the road was curving here and I was staggering almost down the middle. I gazed firmly at my feet and cupped my hand above my eyes trying to shield them.

It was no surprise that I didn't see it coming, until it was too late.

A sudden brightness seeped between my fingers and reached my strained eyes. Just as I lowered my hand it happened.

A third party observer might have seen the event transpire within seconds but for me time moved in ultra-slow motion. The headlights belonged to a car as far as I could discern. I could make out nothing else about the vehicle or its occupants besides those brilliant full beams. The distance between it and I closed both in the blink of an eye and in a moment that for me was timeless.

The impact was horrendous.

They must have seen me in the last second because they swerved enough that only my right thigh was struck by the car's bumper. I felt and heard the sickening crunch of breaking bone and the squelch of pulverised flesh. For a few brief moments I was hurled upward. My momentum carried me above and over the car as it sped on under me. In midair my body flipped over until I was facing skyward. The hailstones that beat down were nothing but inconsequential midges. I descended back to the hard tarmac landing flat on my back, my head cracking off the rough edge of a pothole. I had barely inhaled when I felt the first inklings that something was very wrong.

Clearly being hit by a car was something seriously amiss, but it was not that reality which gripped me in the coming seconds.

The pain in my leg felt like a raging inferno but it built up like a static charge. As I concentrated on it my world began falling away until the pain was all that existed. The fire drew in my senses, seemingly sucking up every ounce of energy from my body and feeding itself like a gluttonous parasite. Sensation from everywhere else in my body either seemed dulled or virtually nonexistent. I was distinctly aware that the concentration of pain had a boiling point, a critical mass, call it whatever you will but it was coming and I had no idea what that could mean. Then that point arrived and this insanity took its course.

Like a static charge going to ground, the fire traversed the path within me of least resistance. From my thigh, it shot straight into my lower spine and my back arched in response. It forced its way up my back like red-hot magma climbing a lava tube. Suddenly, my shoulders seized and my arms stretched out, my elbows locking and my fingers clawing at the impenetrable road. The fire seemed to hit a roadblock at the base of my neck before, like a dam that could not hold back a flood, it erupted forth and filled my cranium with flaming agony. Had I not known better I would have believed smoke was puffing from my ears and little bursts of fire were being carried on my breath. I felt my eyes widen involuntarily and suddenly, I was aware of much more in the night time gloom. My pupils had probably dilated a great deal but then the really terrifying thing happened.

I found the fire had transformed into something I could not quite identify, it felt like an energy, as though the searing heat had become some form that really had no comparison.

Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed, a fact of existence I knew well. Yet I feared this new force of nature that resided inside my skull like some malign entity. It frightened me, and as it coursed through my mind I could not help but feel that I was being possessed. I tried to view this force in my mind's eye and could see nothing but a billowing blackness like thick smoke. This only reinforced the notion that I had an unwelcome visitor. Then my focus returned outward and through my eyes I witnessed the unbelievable. The hail continued to pelt at me but it fell short. The fragments of ice shattered into a million imperceptible specks as though they were evaporating above my body. This invisible barrier hung about a foot in front of me and nothing could traverse it.

I didn't even feel the wind.

For a moment I let go of my terror and admired the serenity of it all. The hailstones fell against it one after another and each time they popped out of existence with a faint sizzle. The puddle that had done little to break my fall now parted around me and the road under my hands was bone dry, almost too hot to touch. I smiled despite my circumstances not bothering to ruin the moment through dissection of this phenomenon. Then a strange image popped into my head.

A wall, a solid brick wall.

The black smoke drifted in at the fringes of the image curling and tangling strands much like the limbs of an octopus. One strand seemed to become denser until it reached a solidity where it became like onyx. In a lightning strike it shattered a brick near the edge of the wall. I gulped as awareness of my aching head wound from my hard landing returned. Then other black tendrils solidified and lashed against this barrier. Brick after brick shattered, popped or disintegrated. Pain signals rushed through the gaping holes like the inferno I'd felt earlier.

Everything hurt.

It was far too much to withstand and as more flaming bolts burned through my nerves I witnessed the blackness grow. Then as the wall became unbalanced it came down like a line of dominoes and the full, uninhibited torture of my crippled body was unleashed upon my frayed mind. Unbearable as it was, I did not scream. Instead I seized up and bit down hard, grinding my teeth as I felt not just my awareness expanding but also my influence.

The smoke was stretching everywhere around me. I could feel it, manipulate it like a tangible limb. It caressed everything nearby. I felt every minute flaw in the tarmac. I sensed the shape of every ripple in the pools of water. I touched every blade of grass and every tree branch and understood them down to the infinitesimal atoms that formed their being. And further up the road I reached out to my tormenter, the thing that left me in this state.

All this things had transpired in a mere half a minute and the car had not travelled far. They had slowed, checking to see if I moved. The blackness enshrouded them. I sensed rapid pulses, laboured breathing and fidgeting hands. There was more than one occupant. Several in fact and they all seemed equally frantic as the driver. I knew they were all male and from the shape of the car's body I knew it was a sports design. Boy racers, the kind of people with the kind of car I hoped to have ironically. They had slowed to a crawl and the passengers glared back at me through the rear window. Then I sensed air molecules dancing and rippling in the vicinity of one of their mouths. He had said something, something I could interpret to my surprise. Three words that inspired panic: "_He's dead. Drive!_"

_No I'm not. Don't leave me here, you cowards_. The sentiment inspired a response in the blackness. It convulsed and tautened as it had before in my mind. Like the hand of a mighty giant it clasped around the car. The driver had just shoved the gear stick into third and was pulling away when his wheels spun. His breath came in short, shallow gasps as his anxiety grew. He struggled against the black smoke putting the car into full gear and pressing the accelerator down as far as it would go. The car shimmied from side to side. I sensed the friction of the wheels on the tarmac. The heat splintered off tiny particles of rubber and the odour of it burning was all the more intense. The air vibrations grew tempestuous like waves on a hurricane-whipped sea as they shouted over each other in panic.

I didn't want this.

It was too dangerous what the blackness was doing. I felt a growing strain upon it as the driver seriously put the pedal to the metal in a desperate bid for freedom from his unseen captor. This strain translated into further agony within my battered head. I whimpered as I tried desperately to let go.

I shouted inside my mind, _Stop! Stop now! Someone will find me! Let them go!_

I really believed then that the blackness was a separate being, for it refused my direct commands that were more like pleading. I visualised the hand that held them. The "fingers" stretched thin like vines trying to hold up a falling tree. Two snapped simultaneously and the car jerked forward a little. That felt to me like red hot needles jabbed in my scalp. Two more gave way and I roared at the top of my lungs. The last finger held out as the car swayed violently. Its continuing extension wrenched at the front of my brain making my forehead feel like it was being pulled by the car's building impetus. I cried and shouted and screeched and when the pain became all too much I bellowed out loud, "_Stop!_"

The finger released instead of breaking in a gentle movement whose consequences were anything but. The car lunged forward having built up considerable forward momentum. In seconds they traversed the road, mounted the ditch and shot straight up before flipping upside down and crashing into stand of bare alder trees strangled by thorny briars.

I felt my mind failing.

The exertion and stimuli had been all too much. Yet in my last minute of fading consciousness, I reached out to them.

The last finger traced their path like a sniffer dog. I felt the skid marks already being dissolved by a fresh shower of rain. I reached out to the broken grass blades and uprooted plants and felt their very cells respond to the injury like damage control teams. Over a short patch of undisturbed vegetation I raced quickly over to the car. I slithered and winded around broken twigs and fallen branches to reach the car and its occupants. I no longer sensed the glass in the windows. The finger split into four little tendrils as it peeked within the wreck. They each extended out finding necks and wrists.

I sensed no sounds, no nerve signals, no pulses and no breaths._ They're all dead_.

I reached out to a smaller shape in the back. It was one of the occupants. His proportions were similar to mine if a little stockier. This new sense was not the same as seeing as such, I couldn't picture his face very clearly but an object he wore drew my attention. It was a chain with a single object attached, a scorpion with the word Scorpio engraved on a narrow strip of metal below it. It was familiar and I knew exactly why. It belonged to my best friend in Kilkee, Fionn O' Reardon. I had given it to him on his eight birthday because of his fascination with astrology, a subject I found repulsive. We had been like kindred spirits, equally weird and flighty in our interests. It was hardest to leave my best friend behind when I left to move to Galway, but we kept up contact and he felt really bad for my situation in the city. He had wanted me to come down this month but I hadn't tried till today because I was grounded. _So I build up the guts to come here, and it comes to this_.

My head slipped sideways against the road facing toward where the wreck lay. The tendrils began withering back and I lost my visual of the Scorpio chain. My mind began to dull as my breathing shallowed and my heart rate slowed. Darkness crept in upon my vision though it hardly made a difference. My body went limp and my eyelids were betraying my will not to sleep. However even as my body shut down, my emotions writhed and clashed brutally as the strange blackness retreated into some hitherto unknown recess of my brain. I sensed its presence constantly but my tenuous control over it had vanished. It was just there, mocking me, much like everything else in the world. My eyelids finally drew together and it was dark. My last thoughts were of my sister and that as much as I wanted to see her again I wished dearly not to wake up.

Of course my wish wasn't granted. I awoke several days later in Limerick Regional Hospital. My vision at first was nothing but a swathe of blurry pastel colours and indefinite shapes.

I believed that I had dreamt the whole thing.

That initial hope dissipated as my hearing returned at a much faster rate. My dad's voice emanated from some indeterminate place. I looked around but made out nothing that looked like his face and the sounds seemed omnidirectional as though he were speaking through a sound system. Of my parents my dad was perhaps the most compassionate. Don't get me wrong, he was still wound up in himself and his career but he wasn't entirely self-absorbed like my mother. Finally everything began to clarify and I was aware of my bed, a room of bland colours with not much else in it, the drips inserted in my forearm and my dad sitting close by in a metal chair. Nothing was fully in focus but it was enough. My hearing normalised a good deal more.

His words had a familiar tone probably because he had been repeating them to me from the moment I stirred, "Hey Jason, how're you feeling?"

I mumbled in response, "Fan-tastic!"

He smiled weakly but unexpectedly; his colouring was very red. I would have thought he'd have been pale. I asked slowly, "What...happened?"

"What do you remember?"

I wouldn't go in to details for fear I'd pass out again in despair so I simply replied, "Everything...until I passed out on the road."

He nodded and stared at his lap, he continued sombrely, "After the accident someone in a house down the road heard the crash. They called the Gardaí and a patrol car came out from Kilkee to check it out. They found you first and just in time. You've broken your thigh up pretty bad, the bone is snapped and there's a lot of tissue damage. If they hadn't found you then and got you to hospital you would have died of internal bleeding."

I knew my injury had been severe but not life-threatening. It gave me pause. Then the one element of that experience I needed not to be real flashed through my brain. The blackness pulsed with it and I suddenly became aware of its presence once more. I honestly believed my outer body experience, touching and seeing things without moving or looking, didn't really happen and was just delirium brought on by shock. It felt as though the blackness was reminding me of it to cause me more grief but I soon realised it was because a lot of the memories were associated with that sense. It was like recalling a sound and knowing you heard it through your ears. Knowing that my imagination hadn't run amuck I forced the hardest question from my lips, "Dad...what about the people in the car?"

He still didn't look at me but his colouration flared brighter. He cleared his throat and he replied shakily, "I-I'm sorry Jason but they died on impact. I'm also sorry to let you know that your friend Fionn was in the car along with his older brother and two of the brother's friends. I'm really sorry."

He seemed sincere but his remorse was tainted by the hint of shame and disappointment in his voice that he covered poorly. I guess part of me didn't blame him. Had I not decided to run off to my former hideout on the worst day of the year then this wouldn't have happened. Still I was carrying more than enough guilt and dejection by myself and no matter what mistakes I'd made, as a parent he should have cared enough to give me the benefit of the doubt, at least for the time being. Yet in comparison to what my mother was about to do he would've won parent of the year. A youngish female doctor led her and Kevin in. The doctor smiled amiably but before she could utter a word my mom had cut passed her and was at my dad's side.

Her hands were pressed down on the mattress firmly and she said through angry tears, "How could you be so stupid? Walking down the middle of a lonely road at night? Are you insane?"

Dad interjected, "Orla, darling, not now."

"Shut up!" she screeched. "Stop mollycoddling him. What he's done is terrible and he needs to know that."

"I think he knows that."

"What is the matter with you, Martin? If he knew better he would never have done it. If you weren't so lax with him he wouldn't act out like this."

He replied unconvincingly, "He didn't set out to cause an accident Orla. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Yeah and four boys are dead."

"Including two of my friends' brothers," Kevin added, "If you weren't such an attention-seeking brat then none of this would've happened."

I had to smile at the irony of his insult. You're one to talk. My mother had not stopped watching me from the corner of her eye for a single moment whilst she argued with dad. Catching my brief smirk she launched her finger at me and started berating me once more, "What in the world could you be smiling about? You really don't care do you? I don't know who you are but you're certainly not the son I raised. I am so incredibly disappointed and humiliated. You realise how difficult you've made things for all of us? The media coverage, the interference with our lives and schedules, all the time you've consumed rebelling and now you're just lying there a useless heap and the icing is that we have to hang around this bloody hospital and act like we care!"

I don't know which part triggered my rage the most. It certainly wasn't the attacks on my character because I knew well my mother didn't raise me to be anything. I was who I was through no influence of hers because she never cared enough to raise me. I also couldn't care less about her opinion of me. I think it started with the word humiliation because she'd managed to make it about herself. I had embarrassed her in front of her well-paid work colleagues and well-to-do Galway friends. The pitch of my fury rose a few more notes with the utterance of the words schedules, time and consumed. Here I was, her son, lying broken and battered in a hospital bed barely able to cope with the enormity of what I'd been through and all she could do was complain that her work and social schedules had to be reorganised just because I'd had a near-fatal accident. Then came the crescendo.

Saying that she didn't care.

I couldn't take it. She could dislike me and disapprove of me all she wanted but I was her son and she should care. At least more than the fact that I was keeping her from her many engagements. The frequency of beeps emanating from my heart monitor increased wildly. I sucked in air and became more animated. My cheeks felt hot and flushed and my eyes widened. My hands dug into the fabric of the blanket.

The doctor, who had stood by watching the exchange in disgusted awe, lurched forward and said authoritatively, "All right that's enough. I'll have to ask you all to leave. Your son is in no condition to deal with this."

My face was burning, my body tremulous. My mother looked like she'd seen a ghost as she paled with my flushed ire. Kevin, too, seemed taken aback and moved slowly towards the furthest wall. The doctor was concerned momentarily until she was at my side faster than I thought possible looking frantic. One hand rested on my shoulder and the other on my clenched left hand. Her skin felt frigidly cold against mine and that shocked me ever so slightly, but I assumed it was because I was so warm. I still gazed fixedly at my mother who was finally looking a little ashamed of herself. My dad couldn't help the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Part of me felt bad for him because I knew he never wanted his family to be like this, but then I remembered that part of him also felt much the same as my mother did.

The doctor's words were calming but futile, "Jason, I know you're mad but you need to calm yourself. You are putting yourself at risk by doing this."

She glanced back at the heart monitor and gasped. My dad rose slightly from his seat and demanded, "What is it?"

"His heart rate is one-eighty beats per minute and his blood pressure is through the roof. If this doesn't stop now he could go into cardiac arrest. I'm going to have to administer a sedative."

I felt it again. The world slipping away, all I could feel was my pain but it was different this time. It was emotional pain. The physical agony of my injury was blocked by the morphine. This however I felt directly within my mind and it burned so much stronger than what I'd felt before. The blackness fed upon it like a dog served a five star steak dinner. It pulsed wildly inside my head with my ever increasing heartbeat. Faintly I heard the doctor exclaim that I'd exceeded two hundred beats a minute. I felt no imminent failure of my heart though, just undiluted rage from a lifetime of emotional neglect at the hands of the woman before me. I was tired of being stymied by her indifference and by that of everyone else.

From that moment I decided that no one in my life mattered but me, then the one other person who did burst in.

Chloe stood in the entrance and her little, melodic voice reached past my rage and I glanced toward her. Suddenly I was quieted and just as quickly as it had come my rage departed and with it the growing blackness. The doctor looked totally confused as my heartbeat and blood pressure fell back to normal levels in an instant. I was overwhelmed with relief having realised where that situation had been headed. I could not comprehend how much damage could have been done if I'd lost control there and then. I might have hated my mother in that moment but I didn't want her dead. My sister favoured my mother with an accusatory glance as if she sensed what had happened. Then using all the force her little body could muster she shoved her aside, slipped between me and my dad and hugged me round the neck as best she could finding it difficult to reach. My dad scooped her up onto his lap so she could see me better.

She said in a heartbreaking little voice, "I missed you big brother. You scared me when you went away. I thought you wouldn't come back."

I smiled replying, "I'd never...leave you on your own. I'm sorry...if I scared you."

Dismissively she replied, "That's okay." Then in a sterner tone she said, "Just promise you'll never leave me alone again."

"I promise..."

"Good." She looked at my mother disdainfully, "Because without you round, they'd all make me crazy."

I laughed but choked on it a little and coughed for a few minutes. Still in a second she'd made me forget about all that had happened in the last few minutes. It reminded me of how she'd distracted me from the misery of my eleventh birthday.

As Chloe continued describing how awful it would be to face each day in that house without me, much to my parents' chagrin, I caught a glimpse of the doctor as she quietly exited the room. Her features were stunning. Flawless porcelain skin, sharp, well defined facial features and curled, mahogany hair. What struck me the most were her eyes. They were simultaneously soft and warming but equally they could gaze upon the world with uncanny sharpness. Then there was the colour, a strange shade of red like burgundy or almost claret. Her eyes met mine briefly and my curiosity about her seemed to trigger my newfound extra sense, but only in the most limited way. I didn't realise at the time, it was completely involuntary, but a single tendril had stretched across the room just to touch her most fleetingly. It wasn't my imagination. She was cold, very cold. That was all I sensed before she disappeared. It would be many years before I would meet the cold woman again.


	2. Chapter 2  Foreclosure

2. FORECLOSURE

I wished dearly that it wasn't so. It perforated my eyelids, interrupting my peaceful reverie, and rousing me from my relaxed state. I furrowed my eyebrows and threw my blanket over my face, artificially inducing the darkness I craved. Alas, my blanket was no defense against the shrill phone alarm that resounded piercingly in my ears. So, I admitted defeat and surrendered to the inevitability of the coming day.

It was Tuesday…but not just any Tuesday. It was the Tuesday after the bank holiday weekend, one which I'd spent in Kilkee. That, along with the abnormally long slumber I had enjoyed, translated roughly into, "this day already sucks and I want to stay in bed". With reluctance that was difficult to overcome, I slid out of the bed and rooted through my drawers for whatever new clothes I needed that day. As usual, the various pieces of my uniform were cast across the room. It was often like a treasure hunt each morning trying to find them. Donning a pair of loose navy pants, a light blue shirt and a navy tie with gold stripes, I stared morosely into my mirror. Another day of the same old rigmarole was about to commence.

I grabbed my navy jumper with the school crest embroidered below the left shoulder. My school bag was fully packed and waiting for me at the door at the bottom of the stairs. I purposefully averted my eyes from it and took a sharp right into the kitchen and dining room. This room was, as always, impeccable. The bread bin, various containers for salt, sugar, tea bags and the various kitchen appliances were all neatly positioned and aligned. There was not so much as a teaspoon in the sink, and every surface was sparkling clean. On my right was the very expensive oak wood table and chair set. Perfectly arranged place settings and cutlery were laid out for six people despite the fact that the family rarely had meals together.

I strolled lackadaisically across the lino floor, which was painfully stark white. I took out a bowl from the cupboard to the left of the sink. These, too, were a domestic luxury or overspend, depending on your taste. They were all made of oak and etched with floral designs stretching out from the corner of each door and a black metallic handle that mirrored the whimsical patterns. I absentmindedly poured cornflakes and milk into my bowl, returning the milk to our cavernous fridge-freezer and the ceramic container for the cornflakes to its proper position between the sugar and the brown rice. All in all, the décor of this room was the essence of extravagance.

And I hated every bit of it.

I stood in front of the sink staring out the window to our patch of golf-course-green grass, our back garden. A clothes line danced in the brisk autumn breeze, but it was rarely used as my mother thought it "unsightly" to hang one's laundry outside and insisted we use the dryer. Behind that, our garden contained little else besides an empty, wooden shed and our heating oil tank.

I prodded my cereal idly, staring at the unchanging scene with no actual interest. Although I cursed the sun for invading the darkness each morning, I never slept until I absolutely needed to get up. That would be too hard, to face a day straight off the mark without a breather. This was my prep time. I would not leave here for another half hour and in that time, I could have a leisurely breakfast. I dwelt upon the coming misery and how best to brace for it. I had a plan formulated before my cornflakes even turned soggy.

I would get off the bus and enter the school from the side entrance, thereby avoiding my tormentors who often lounged in the courtyard before the main entryway. I would visit the cloakroom and my locker as quickly as I could manage and make a rapid dash to my first class of the day, which was double geography. Once there, I was secure against any interaction with my fellow classmates because my geography teacher, Mr. Reidy, was a bull of a man and would send any chit-chatters to the principal's office without hesitation. After that, having successfully evaded them for the first ninety minutes, I would go to Irish class where we would be too tied up by oral exercises for anyone to bother me.

Break time was a little trickier.

Whilst avoiding people for our fifteen-minute recess at eleven was not too much of a challenge, it was harder to do so for an hour at one o-clock for our main lunch break. The fact that we were forbidden to loiter in the classrooms during that hour made it all the more difficult to duck in somewhere and hide. That said, I'd become quite proficient at being evasive over my three years in Salt Hill Secondary School.

Still, even I had my off days.

Having gotten to school and through the morning classes in one piece, I'd stayed on the move throughout the morning break and between my two noon classes, French and biology. At lunch hour, I ate my chicken and lettuce bap whilst striding down the narrow corridor where all the science labs were located. I was doing well so far. I'd only caught fleeting glances of my top ten. Those ten students in 5th year with me who always gave me the most hassle.

Then, nature called.

It rarely happened in school. I think my body had been conditioned over the years to avoid any such circumstances that might lead me to stop for a prolonged period of time. Still, it was my own fault for drinking a litre of bottled water at eleven, just to cure a little dry-mouth. The bathrooms were not an ideal place to go right then. Four of the ten people I most wanted to avoid regularly hung around the hallway where they were located. Still, the pressure was intense and I doubted I could hold it and ask to be excused in class. So, despite my discomfort, I managed to walk cautiously and covertly, staying close to the walls and taking corners sharply. I crossed my fingers as I neared the hallway, hoping to God that perhaps they'd chosen another haunt for that day.

My hopes were dashed before I even turned down the hallway for the bathrooms.

I could hear their raucous voices before laying eyes upon them. I heard a high-pitched whistle. A girl, perhaps two years behind me, charged out of the hallway with a sour expression on her face. I slowed to a crawl as she brushed by, reconsidering what I was doing. It was twenty past. I debated resisting the pressure for forty more minutes. No, I decided. I would be in and out quickly, and I would withstand any jeering or intimidation I would have to suffer.

So, I swooped in silently to the near corner of the hallway. I peeked around like some secret agent on an infiltration mission. Sure enough, each one of them was there, Danny Callaghan, Garry O' Reilly, Mason Woods, and Jake Tuohy. They were at the very end of the corridor, past the girls' bathroom by the emergency exit. They were smoking, I noted, which was prohibited on school grounds. I could tell they were guffawing from some idiocy or vulgar story told by Danny, leader of the pack.

None of them were watching, so I took my chance as stealthily as possible. Back to the wall, I sidestepped the short distance between the corner and the boys' bathroom. I slipped inside noiselessly until the door glided back behind me with the harsh squeak of warped hinges. I winced and kicked myself for not holding the door but proceeded to the cubicle hurriedly, hoping against hope that my little slip-up hadn't attracted attention.

They were waiting for me as soon as I exited the cubicle.

Danny was holding open the bathroom door, which inconveniently made little noise opening. So, when I stepped out and trotted to the sinks, I missed him until I turned. Suddenly seeing him caused me to take a noticeable intake of breath, but I quickly composed myself and walked casually to the hand drier. If I'd learned anything from my years in Galway, it was that your best defense against bullies was inaction, unresponsiveness, indifference. Acknowledging a bully's insults, taunts, and aggression was akin to offering your arm to a rabid dog and then doing nothing as it continued to follow you, nipping away constantly as you go.

Still, I sensed the high road was unavailable at that moment.

As my hands dried at a frustratingly slow rate, I gave Danny and his henchmen a sidelong glance. They were all inside the bathroom at this point, filing in behind Danny who stood less than five feet away. Usually, Danny eyed me with condescension and belligerence. The latter was still very present in his expression, but it was not the smug, superior sort. His menacing glare had overtones of anxiousness and maybe a faint trace of fear. What he had to fear from me, I could not grasp. He was four, and I was one. As I gave up on the inefficient hand drier, I continued my act of nonchalance and made to leave. Danny immediately thwarted me and stood very close, until his glowering eyes were but a few inches from mine.

He spoke, and his muggy, smoky breath blew right up my nose. "Culhane, you dropped in here very quietly. Some reason why you didn't want to get our attention," he asked.

With some bullies, especially those of smaller stature or those who are weaker, when they take it to another level, it's best to give as good as you get and put them in their place. When faced with a more powerful opponent, deference is key, at least until you can report the person. I couldn't ascertain whether Danny or I would win in a fight. Though he was taller, our builds were fairly evenly matched, but Danny also had backup. Yet, I found my dislike for him was too great to allow any submissiveness.

So I replied, sounding as stern as I could, "Look, Danny, I don't want any crap. Just let me pass."

"No, no, I want an answer. 'Cause you seem to have a problem with respect, and I ain't too thrilled about being ignored."

"I have nothing to say to you." Too pointed, I realised too late.

"Well, I've got plenty I'd like to say to you, you ignorant shit."

In for a penny, in for a pound, I guessed. "I don't want to _listen_ to you either Danny. Now, get out of my way." My tone was intended to be forceful, but it was strangled by my nervousness.

"Or what," he demanded.

I had no answer. He sneered at me viciously, and his pack members began fanning out to encircle me, their intended prey. I was at a loss as to how to get out of this mess. I doubted that even if I tackled Danny there and then and did a runner that I'd escape unscathed. So, I softened my tone to sound suitably timid. "Okay, okay, just say what you have to say, so I can get out of here."

"What did you see?"

Confused, I darted my eyes sideways and asked, "What do you mean what did I see?"

"Just now, what did you see us doing?"

I retraced my most recent memories and quickly, realisation hit me. "You mean your smoking?" His eyes narrowed, and I continued, "You think I'm going to report you? Please, Danny; I don't care enough about you to be that vengeful."

Once again, I cursed my loose mouth, but he seemed to lose the tension in his body and back up a bit. His expression was once again derisive, but the belligerence toned down a notch or two. I sighed in relief in my head but tried not to let it show on the outside. Then, Danny backed up into Mason who'd been standing too close. The contact caused him to jump and shoulder Mason who flailed momentarily. A small plastic package slipped out of his right jacket pocket, and the contents spilled across the tiled floors almost touching the tips of my shoes.

I gazed, gobsmacked, at the off-white crystals. They had not been smoking cigarettes, I realised, but crack cocaine. My jaw moved up and down, attempting to sound some sentence or phrase that I hadn't even formed in my head yet. The four of them seemed just as shaken, but only for a few brief seconds. My eyes looked forward without budging my dipped head. Danny was terrified, terrified, but completely focused.

Remember that whole deference routine I mentioned? Well, that only works to prevent a fight. Once the ball is dropped, the rules of the game change.

I tensed my body and almost leapt to my left towards the door. Garry interceded, but I remembered some stuff from a self-defense documentary I watched once. I held my hand flat and aimed for the bridge of his nose. Contrary to popular belief, hitting someone like that into the nose won't shove their nasal bones into their brain, too much skull in the way for that. I knew what I needed to do. It had to be hard, fast, and precise.

Garry clearly hadn't an inkling that I'd try something like that, expecting instead that I would tackle him. Holding his body stiff and spreading his arms wide to grapple me just left him unprepared and worsened the blow. He roared in agony from between his hands, cupping his fractured nose with tears streaming from his eyes and blood oozing between his fingers. Whilst he leaned against a cubicle huffing and moaning between sobs, I sprinted over him almost tripping on his leg.

Still, I only managed to grasp the handle of the door before Danny and the others were upon me. He yanked me back by my shoulders, making me lose my balance as the motion dragged me onto my heels. Before I could fall on my back, he secured me around the throat with his right arm and tightened the noose. I struggled forward, but Mason and Jake came around to face me. They landed punch after punch after punch. Jake wore a ring of some sort, which ripped my left brow and burst my lower lip. Mason struck me multiple times in the stomach and groin making me want to hurl from the shock. All the while, Danny put increasing pressure on my throat, and breathing became excruciatingly difficult. I felt woozy. I realised that Danny's vice-like headlock had sealed off my airway.

The fists, elbows, knees, and feet that continued to pummel me all of a sudden were nothing more than dull thuds. My vision was blurring and narrowing, the darkness encroaching upon my world. I couldn't be sure whether they'd beat me to death in their drugged-up state, or if Danny would keep applying pressure until my brain was starved of oxygen. If I was lucky, they might leave it at unconsciousness and hope that when I woke up that I wouldn't remember a thing. No, that would be too big a risk, not that they were thinking logically anyways. They were probably too wired to know when to quit.

The seconds that passed, as I slipped away, were agonisingly long. I clutched at the darkness rather than struggle back into the fading light. Part of me was comfortable letting go of this poor excuse for existence, much less life. Then, as the tempestuous blackness swirled around me, my mind deployed my anchor.

Chloe.

Just as three years ago I knew I couldn't just give up and runaway, I knew that in that moment, I couldn't surrender. I had one thing to live for. But how would I live through this? I was suffocating, and the brief burst of vigor brought on by my mental kick-start was rapidly diminishing. I struggled to heave my chest to draw in air, but my lungs just burned as they craved the oxygen Danny's unrelenting grip was denying me. Weakly, I tried to elbow him in the stomach, but he didn't even flinch. Enraged with myself, I struggled with my body like a puppeteer doing his best to wield a puppet with tangled strings. The fury built, smoldered, _burned_.

Then, I sensed it, awakening.

That little spot in the deepest recesses of my mind pulsed and with each one it grew, drawing upon my pain _and_ my anger. I had ignition, I just had to step on the gas. I filled my mind with images, of Chloe crying inconsolably when news came I was dead, my parents' distinct lack of remorse, though I was sure they'd put on a good show, Danny, Jake, Mason and Garry getting away with this, getting on with their lives.

My emotions wracked my skull like an irate tiger trapped in too small a cage. My physical pain was far greater than I realized, for I was nearly faint, but the unremorseful searing flames raced through my nerves, as though they were tracing trails of gasoline. They all met at their final destination within my brain, which was already in turmoil. The two distinct pains were for a split second like oil and water. Then, in a flash of sheer torture, they exploded like the Big Bang went off inside my ravaged mind. That was the catalyst. The transformation had occurred. The blackness had been summoned.

I must have passed out for the briefest of moments with the exertion. The blackness wouldn't have that though, not after I'd roused it from its peaceful slumber.

The fluorescent lights speared my oversensitive eyes as my pupils dilated, swamping my irises. I felt the blackness as a tangible thing that I could use to see and touch everything. I felt Danny's arm loosen slowly. It drifted outward with the blackness that enveloped me in a protective shield, in my mind's eye at any rate. Jake and Mason stepped back in perplexed horror seeing that their blows landed short of their targets. Jake absently rubbed his knuckles. They were swollen and red from beating me, but hitting air and having it feel like a cement wall had drawn his notice.

Danny had his eyes closed, his features scrunched up as I turned to glare at him. He still squeezed his arm as tightly as possible, thinking he still had me by the neck. I sneered in a demented, malicious sort of way. A trick I'd learned was that the fire of anguish that powered the blackness could be transferred outward as _heat_. So, I turned up the temperature. Danny yelped in shock and fell backwards onto his behind. His breaths were quick and shallow as he stared at his blistered hands. His left cheek, too, was raised and reddened. I felt no pity, just unrestrained loathing.

I bored into him with my black eyes, and he shook in fear. They weren't high enough to delude themselves into believing that this was a hallucination, but still, their sense of self-preservation was obviously compromised. Jake and Mason thought they'd be brave and tried to jump me from behind. I used the blackness, molding it into strong, grasping tendrils.

As they ran towards me, full speed, I reformed the ends of these tendrils into full, oversized fists and pounded into them, aiming them at just the right spot on their chest. The air was knocked from them. The strike was brutal. The thump I heard was sickening, even to me. They clasped at their aching chests and fought for a breath. I turned the fists into clasped hands, grabbed them by their shirts, and lifted them off their feet. Then, with a single thought, I flung them into the far wall hard enough to render them both unconscious. I returned my attention to Danny, though my eyes had never left him. I sensed that he was sober. The increased heart rate and the adrenalin had caused him to metabolize the cocaine quicker. He stared at me with revulsion, but it was tainted by the terror in his eyes.

"You're…You're a _freak_!" He hissed the last word, trying to be defiant, but the effect was ruined by his quivering voice.

"I suppose I am," I replied in mock agreement.

I stood over him. I bent down to haul him to his feet, my hands gripping his shirt tightly. I contained him with the blackness, so he wouldn't struggle. Then, with as much malignity as I could infuse into my tone, I said, "Let's see how you like it."

I focused all the blackness into a ring around his neck. It formed a solid noose, enveloping his entire throat. I pressed inward with as much force as he'd used against me. I wanted him to feel it, the sensation of having the life squeezed out of you, of not being able to do the most natural, most basic of things, to not be able to breathe.

I increased the pressure slowly until his breathing became ragged. He started heaving his chest, emitting a rasping sound as the air rushed through an ever-decreasing space. Finally, it was sealed. He frantically clawed at his throat, trying to loosen the invisible noose. I didn't allow it though because he hadn't allowed me that small comfort. His mouth opened and closed in rapid intervals, as though he were mimicking a goldfish. I still pierced him with my gaze, impenitent for his suffering. I could see the regret in his eyes. If he could speak, I knew he'd beg. To my delight, he passed out far quicker than I.

And that was the end of it.

The danger had passed. The blackness faded. I stood there as my vision normalised. I felt no regret of my own, but I didn't feel good in what I'd done. Suddenly, I was very aware of my injuries. The fire had dissipated with the blackness, and my pain was nothing but the sharp sting of slits and cuts and the dull ache of bruises. My eyes watered, and my lips stiffened with my facial wounds. I completely relaxed my forehead, so I wouldn't stretch my torn eyebrows. I still felt nauseous from the blows to my stomach and groin, but I refused to get sick.

Garry, whose nose I'd probably broken, had slumped against the frame of a cubicle, but had never passed out. As I turned to stumble out, I met his antipathetic eyes. They seemed somewhat befuddled though, entirely untrusting of what they had seen.

Like his friends, that incredulity took over, and he sought to prove his eyes wrong. He managed to shoot unsteadily to his feet and thrashed towards me totally uncontrolled. His fingers were outstretched like talons, so he would catch a hold of me once he'd traversed the space between us.

I had no more strength to draw on.

My pain and emotions stirred nothing within me that would allow me to just "think" him away. I had expended all of my body's energies in my defense. So, I did the most effortless thing I could do. I reached my hand around the back of his neck when he came close enough. I caught the floundering buffoon by the nape of his neck, pulled him straight across in front of me and drove his face down upon the nearest sink. I didn't force him down hard, mind you, but with his face already in tatters, it was enough to disable him. He slipped back to the floor, girlishly weeping. Giving no more heed to any of them, I staggered out.

Although I sneaked into the employee bathrooms and cleaned myself up as best I could, there was no covering the black eye, the swollen lower lip, the missing chunk of eyebrow, the dented nose, or the hundred and one other cuts and bruises.

Just before class started, I was intercepted by several very concerned teachers. It was appreciated, at first, until their concern turned to wary distance once word spread about Danny and his friends. I admitted fully that I'd caught them with drugs, and they tried to kick the crap out of me. They believed that much because the four boys were still a little inebriated when they were found. The bag of cocaine helped my case too. Still, what the principal, Mrs. Anne Fogarty, couldn't comprehend was how I'd defeated four boys twice my size in close quarters.

She was a fifty-something woman with nondescript features and a smallish frame. She spoke with a soft, patronizing voice, mimicking that of a mother scolding young children. That made it hard to keep my own voice level. I held a tissue to my inflamed lip, as it continued to exude blood every time I uttered a word.

She watched me with compassionate eyes as she spoke. "Now Jason, are you sure you don't want to see a doctor or go hospital? The other boys went quite willingly."

"…No, thank you," I murmured.

She kept bringing it up, though. It felt like the woman was trying to make me feel guilt or remorse. _Good luck_, I thought. The only reason they accepted a hospital visit was because they were pathetic little rich boys who thought they were hard men taking drugs.

I was also certain that they would want to keep up appearances and not have the Gardaí interviewing them in the school.

Mrs. Fogarty continued, "Jason, I'm afraid I'll have to question you on this because an _incident_ like this has never happened in the history of my school."

"Of course," I replied curtly.

"I won't ask you to recount your story again, but you have to explain how you managed this feat. You say they were hitting you whilst Danny Callaghan restrained you…and yet, you freed yourself and subdued them all?"

"That's it." She smiled warmly, but her eyes were suspicious. "I watch too many martial arts programs," I offered, not altering my tone.

"Ah, I see." She glanced down at her desk, but when her eyes met mine again, her smile had disappeared. "You know, I wish I'd installed surveillance cameras in the school, it would've made this so much easier."

Her tone had cooled and that threw me. "Well… um… I guess hindsight's a great thing."

"Hmm, indeed." She nodded.

There was an awkward silence that made me want to scrunch in on myself, but it was hard to break away from her glare. Her tone became very formal as she said, "Jason, I'm going to make this _real_ simple. Those boys are in very big trouble. They could be charged with drug possession with intent to distribute. Their assault on you would also weigh heavily upon them, if you chose to press charges."

"Well I don't plan to. What's your point?"

"My point is that they likely will not face prison time or even see the inside of a court, if their parents' lawyers have anything to say about it. Therefore, I will have no choice, if they are acquitted, but to allow them back to school."

The tissue slipped from my hand, my jaw dropping in the process. I made a concerted effort to repeat every word she had said mentally, thinking I'd misunderstood. Meanwhile, my mouth cut ahead, "Ah…what…Why? _How_ can you do that," I asked, a hint of panic colouring my voice.

"I am the principal of this school. It's my decision," she replied coolly.

I knew I always sensed something so twofaced about her. I had never experienced it because I'd never been in her office for anything.

Still in awe of the situation, I asked more clearly, "But you said they're in big trouble. And I'm sure drugs and fighting has left a black mark on the school's reputation. Why in the world would you let them back in?"

"Their parents contribute much to this school. It wouldn't be in our best interests to expel them."

I scowled at her. "You mean they pay you a lot of money."

She returned my menace with interest. "Be very careful, Jason. I can make this much more difficult for you if you force my hand."

"How could you? You're allowing the crack heads who very nearly beat me to death back here, so they can finish the job."

The patronizing tone returned. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. You have a few bumps and scratches." I stared at her in disbelief as her tone iced up again. "I'm sure you _will_ resolve your differences peaceably."

"You can't be serious. There's no way you'll get away with this. Don't think your veiled threats will stop me from involving my parents," I warned.

"Uh-huh, all the good that will do. It's not like they're going to come down on your side. Besides, pretty soon, it won't even matter."

How shameful, even my principal knew my parents would find a way to turn this on me. Then, my attention was drawn to the last thing she said. _Pretty soon, it won't even matter_. Bewildered, I asked, "What do you mean?"

She looked honestly surprised that I didn't understand her meaning, but then she grinned as she took advantage of my ignorance. "What? Your parents didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"You're leaving at the end of this month. You're parents couldn't afford the second term fees."

I felt the blood drain from my face, and even my burst lip seemed to dry up. I withered before her. She smirked at my astonishment and said with barely contained glee, "That will be all. You may skip your evening classes if you're not feeling up to them right now."

She stared intently at some paperwork she had in her hand but never lost the gloating expression on her wizened face. I came to my feet robotically, grabbed my coat and bag, and walked all the way home like a zombie.

I still felt like a mindless automaton when I reached the house. Opening the gate and trundling through our minuscule front lawn as if by reflex, I reached the door. It wouldn't open immediately, and it never occurred to me that it might be locked. I tried several more times before awareness began to seep back in. I sucked in the air deeply to prevent my welling eyes overflowing and to control my urge to punch something really hard. The betrayal and dishonesty in my family was mind-boggling. I knew my father had been let go last year from the hospital because of cutbacks, but I had no idea things had gotten so bad. Everything in my family had seemed just as tense and awkward as usual. Perhaps the typical tenor of our relationships had camouflaged this undercurrent of worry and discontent.

Well, I supposed that meant public school for Chloe and me. Lucky for Kevin, he had his own job that earned him enough money to support himself through college in Cork University. He only occasionally asked our parents for a little extra to top off his registration fees at the start of each year. One more thing I envied him for: he was independent of mom and dad, living his own life on his own terms, although, he'd probably end up just like them but perhaps a bit more money-conscious. Through my despondent musing, I managed to root out my keys from my trouser pocket. I twisted the key wrong several times before I managed to open the door. It swung open. I stared into an empty, dimly lit house.

Stepping forward, something slipped under my foot, and I was on the ground.

I smacked my head off the pavement outside, but my back bore the brunt of the impact. I growled and cursed. Sitting up, I saw a pile of letters at the bottom of the doorway, one with my dirty shoeprint on the envelope. I scrambled to my feet. Since dad had been out of a job and still on the lookout, he was nearly always home. I'd noticed, especially of late, that when the mail came, he'd power-walk his way to it and gather it up before anyone else could even see the letters. Then, hurriedly, he'd haul the load upstairs and didn't come down for at least an hour.

The amount of letters we'd been receiving had grown steadily larger over the past two months. The previous week I'd crept up the stairs after he'd gotten a particularly large number of letters. All I heard from my parents' room was the sound of tearing paper and muffled whimpers. I supposed I should have pieced all the clues together myself. That said, I would not have allowed myself to even suspect problems until I saw the mail for myself.

There was a large pile today, perhaps larger than last week's that brought my father to tears. I scooped them all up and struggled to keep them in my grasp. I turned to my left into the kitchen and spread them out on the dining room table. One immediately caught my eye. Stamped in block capitals across the envelope, it read:

FINAL NOTICE

_Red letters!_ I was momentarily appalled, but that fell away with my stomach as the ground beneath me suddenly seemed insecure, along with everything else. I felt dizzy and I realized after a few seconds that I wasn't breathing. My breaths were still very shallow as I tentatively picked up the envelope by its corners, as though it would burn me.

I debated whether I should confirm my worst fears or wait for my parents to break the news. I knew, however, that they'd admit to nothing until the consequences became dire. So, slowly, I peeled back the seal and hesitantly slid out its contents. There was a single page. My hands trembled, and my thumbs left dents in the paper as I clutched it tighter. Finally, I found the courage to unfold the sheet and read its undoubtedly distressing, formally threatening content. The message it carried was short and sweet, addressed to both my parents. It read:

_Dear Mr. & Mrs. Culhane_

We regret to inform you that unless your overdue mortgage repayments are met within one week of receipt of this letter, expected delivered on the 5th of October, we will be forced to take further action against you, and you risk foreclosure of your residence.

Regards…

I didn't even read who it was from as I attempted to swallow these jagged, little words. Few of them were anything but innocuous on their own but strung together into these pointed sentences, they stabbed into my eyes forcing me to avert my gaze. I pressed the sheet of paper down, hard upon the table. The words had gone down, but now to digest them, to ruminate over their meaning in the grand scheme of things.

It was when I scanned over the other letters that I realised what they were. An electricity bill from the _ESB_, a television bill from _Sky_, a telephone and internet bill from _Eircom_, and everywhere there were letters from all different banks and the _Credit Union_. My angst grew exponentially and with flurried, shaky hands I ripped into the rest of the mail tearing envelopes to shreds and exposed their stark messages.

I quickly found that every letter I thought was a bill was, in fact, more notices and warnings of legal action ensuing if overdue payments were not met. Termination of services was also threatened within the next few days. The banks demanded that they pay the _interest_ on their dozen or so loans, let alone the loan itself. A bank statement at first seemed like the most harmless of the lot, but scanning down the columns, I saw massive direct debit withdrawals but precious little entering the account by comparison. Then, I hit the bottom and my jaw dropped. Nearly two grand in overdrafts for this month alone…and that was just _one_ of the banks.

I cast my eyes upward and stared at the ceiling trying to hold in the burgeoning tears. For some reason, it seemed appropriate to laugh, but it was humorless and hysterical. I did a double take on all the many sheets of notices, warnings, and threats realising that this was really happening. I had not suffered brain damage during the fight nor had I hit my head too hard when I fell.

My whole world, as pitiful as it already was, was falling apart.

Weakness and dejection overcame me. I couldn't bear to see this any longer. I pulled myself up the stairs, stumbled inside my room, and collapsed on my bed. I lay there face down for a few minutes before aligning myself along the length of the bed. My eyes were red and puffy, which only added to the stinging sensation from my bruises. I heaved myself up and sat against the headboard. I curled my knees up to my face wrapping my arms around my calves. My fingers interlocked, restraining my legs, as I struggled not to have a destructive tantrum. Finally, raising my forehead from my knee, I glanced around thinking about the real consequences of this financial fiasco.

I'm going home.

That was all I could think. Not about losing the house, the majority of its contents, being uprooted, and going to a new school once again. None of that bothered me, and in a strange way, I was happy at those thoughts. If all those things came to pass, the only recourse for my parents would be to ship back to Kilkee and live in our old home that they still rented out for visitation purposes. I had never seen any letters from our landlord demanding his monthly rent. Eavesdropping on many of my parents' private conversations, I knew that if all else failed, they would resort to living there again and so kept it as an emergency backup.

Still, I worried.

What if my mother lost her job, too, over her monetary meltdown or if prison time was issued as a result of any legal action? We had few relatives we could move in with. Both my parents were only children, and our last grandparent died when I was seven. We had a granduncle and grandaunt in Shannon and a few second cousins in Ennis, Inagh, and Lahinch. No one we were particularly close to. My parents' relationships with them ranged from formally polite to downright sour. I didn't care to hear the reasons, but it probably had something to do with my mother's winning personality. Even so, whenever we met them, they were always genial and _generous_ to Kevin, Chloe and me. I was so deep in thought that I hadn't noticed Chloe in my doorway.

I smiled at her and said with mock authority, "You know you really should announce yourself before coming into someone's room, little lady."

She did not return my smile. She looked pallid, her lips pressed into a hard line, and her eyes were wide with anxiety. I don't know what it was, but my own worry dissolved in a split second. Part of it was brotherly responsibility, knowing that right then, I had to be strong and in control for her. Yet, whenever I felt a negative emotion in her presence, an eerie calm would wash over me. Many a time when I argued with my parents and they would say hurtful things, I would feel the blackness rising, the fire raging in my mind. Then, Chloe would enter the room and quench it instantly. It was invariably the same every time and while I convinced myself it was all in my head, I couldn't deny the creepy coincidence.

Her lower lip quivered as she spoke in a quavering voice, "Are mom and dad going to jail?"

Chloe was nine, but she was smarter than any nine-year old I'd ever met. She didn't need me to elaborate on the meanings of foreclosure, action will be taken on unpaid mortgage installments, and bills. She swiftly took in everything and, as usual, drew the worst case scenario from what she understood. It was crippling my heart to see her big, baby-blue eyes tear up and her small body tremble in fear. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to clear up the letters, so she wouldn't see them when she was home from school. Spilt milk, I guessed, so I hurried over to her and bent my knees so that my face was level with hers.

I took her shoulders gently and replied, "No, no, it's okay. No one's going to jail. Mom and dad are just having some money problems."

"Big ones," she pointed out.

I sighed but agreed. "I know. It's a huge mess, alright. But they'll figure a way out."

"How?" she asked.

I had no immediate answer. I didn't want to explain to her the intricacies of declaring yourself bankrupt in case it freaked her out further. Luckily, my moment's silence allowed her to ask more questions. "Doesn't foreclosure mean they can't keep the house, and does that mean we'll have to move somewhere new?"

Chloe couldn't be as positive about that aspect of the situation. She was barely four when we came here and although she was abnormally smart, she had settled well, especially in school. She had more friends than I could name or even think of, and she received nothing but praise from her teachers. She had spent more than half her life in Galway, so obviously this was harder for her. She hardly remembered living in Kilkee, except for the rare times my parents would take her on a visit. I wanted to bring her myself, but being sixteen, they didn't trust me to drive a car without their supervision, certainly not for such a great distance. I considered that deception might be beneficial, but another quirk Chloe had was that no one could lie to her. She saw through everyone, no matter how well they made deceit appear truthful.

So, I was honest. "That could happen. If it does, we might have to live in Kilkee."

"I'll never see my friends again."

"You will. We can drive up to see them."

"Not if they take the cars."

"Well, my car is in my name and I paid for it myself. I'm not buried in debt so I'll get to keep it. I'll bring you."

"But you can't drive on your own for another year."

"Forget that, I don't care what they say anymore. I'm driving solo whether they like it or not. Your big brother's got it handled."

She looked doubtful. She was still visibly shaken. I stopped the exaggerated cheerfulness I'd mustered and talked to her straight. "Look, mom and dad screwed up big time. They're in very deep and to be honest, I don't know what the solution is. But even if they can't, I will take care of you. I'm your big brother, and you're my little Chloe-bear, and I'll always be here, no matter how bad it gets."

Her dubiousness quelled, she narrowed her eyes with an appraising grin. She shook off my hands from her delicate shoulders and paced in front of me. Then her head shot up and she said conspiratorially, "Okay, I believe you. But we need a plan."

_This is going to be good_, I thought. "Okay, shoot."

"Right, well, worst case scenario, mom and dad go to jail, boo hoo, we're all sad for a bit, but then there's the practical side to consider."

"Such as," I asked.

"Ugh! Money, obviously! And a place to stay, I refuse to sleep in your smelly car."

"Our relatives will probably take us in."

"Yeah, but that's not a permanent solution. You have a job. Can't you get us somewhere to live?"

"Ah, I work part-time in a McDonalds earning minimum wage. I ain't renting out any deluxe apartments any time soon."

"Oh Jason, you're really not working with me at all."

"Chloe, I'm just giving you the facts. I still have a year and a half of school plus college after that, assuming I scrape up the money to go. All the while, I'll be paying off the insurance and tax on my car."

Forever the optimist, she replied, "Well, maybe if you work hard enough, they'll give you a raise or promote you, or you could find a new job in Kilkee."

I hadn't thought of that myself. I'd have to quit my job. There was no point driving three hours everyday just to work twenty hours of the week. That sucked. My job was one of the few places I got on with people, perhaps because everyone there was more mature. I was the youngest employee, so I was always referred to as the baby, though.

Chloe clicked her fingers in front of me, her mouth forming an "O" of realisation. "Our college funds!"

"Please! In a situation this bad, you know mom would plunder that first," I replied, with more acid than I meant to use.

Chloe raised an eyebrow and looked stern. "Okay, we may not be fond of them right now, but you can tone down the bitchiness."

"Eh, excuse you, but I'm your elder, and only I get to be all high and mighty."

"Is that how it works?"

"Damn right it is," I replied as we grappled with each other jokingly.

She asked through clenched teeth as the mess fight proceeded, "By the way, what happened to your face? You look uglier than usual."

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that, BODY SLAM!"

"NO!"

Throwing her over my shoulder, I was just about to land her on the bed when she froze, tapping lightly on my back. I turned to meet my dad's remorseful gaze. I let Chloe down, but she wouldn't release my hand. My dad looked like he was fighting to keep his eyes on us. His shame was unmanageable. I felt bad for dad, to an extent. He always wanted the best for his family, and he felt useless when he failed to give us that. My mother, on the other hand, only wanted the best for herself. The rest of us were secondary to that. The problem was that dad was too soft and always gave in to her every whim and desire. He would compromise anything and everything to keep her happy, including our financial security.

If there was a new, expensive perfume, designer top, shoe, or piece of jewelry that her rich friends had and she didn't, she demanded to have it at the expense of all other considerations. She bought only the best food and bottle after bottle of pricey wine. The house was fitted with the best appliances, furnishings, and trinkets. We had every TV channel under the sun and the fastest broadband internet available. She dry-cleaned nearly everything. She got manicures, pedicures, dye jobs, tanned and waxed herself on a regular basis, all professionally. She purchased only the best clothes and forced her vain habits upon us, so she could be _seen_ with us.

She smoked like an industrial chimney. She forced us along to visit the most up-market restaurants and take the most extravagant of holidays. Everything had to be the utmost best of the best, or it was nothing to her. Perhaps we could have managed that lifestyle when both my parents were working, but since dad was let go, she'd gotten worse, as if to compensate by ignoring the situation.

Dad stood still in absolute mortification. He never wanted us to find out this way, I was sure, but his lapse was unfixable. Still, I wasn't going to berate him, blame him, or blank him. In the end, his only fault was being too malleable in the hands of my mother. I stepped forward gingerly, trying to bridge the awkward gap between us. Chloe tightened her grip on my hand, not in fear, just less sure than I about how to approach the situation. Still, even as I moved closer, I lacked any words to communicate how we were feeling and that we bore no animosity or anger towards him.

Finally, as the silence grew unbearably discomfiting, I settled for a cliché. "Dad, this isn't all your fault. We don't blame you for anything."

"Thanks, kids. I only wish it were that simple."

"We're gonna get past this, right?"

He paused. His eyes, staring downward, seemed a million miles away. His body was still. His lower lip quaked for a moment as he returned to the real world, saying in a toneless voice, "We're going to try. That's all I can promise."

Chloe interjected, "Will mom get to keep her job?"

He smiled at her, but there was no warmth in it. He replied, "I hope so, honey. Although, I can't imagine they'll keep her as a department head if we're declared bankrupt. She'll likely be demoted to a lecturer. I hope her pride doesn't get in the way though 'cause, knowing her, she'll probably quit in defiance."

All through that emotionless recitation, I had tried to signal him with my expression to shut up. Either he didn't comprehend or was unaware in his deadened state. Bankruptcy, demotion, and our mother's pride were three subjects I didn't want broached in Chloe's presence. She might have been smarter than her years would imply, but she was just as sensitive and impressionable as any other nine-year old. I closed my eyes in consternation as Chloe latched both her hands around mine and rested her temple against my arm. Dad didn't know when to shut up sometimes, and he overestimated Chloe's maturity. It was clear though that he was too dazed and too desensitized to register that his words were too blunt.

I tried my best to smother the slight burning feeling in my head. I was still riled up from the day's events, and I was on a hair-trigger. Chloe looked up to meet my eyes briefly. Her expression was calming, tranquil, as though she were conveying that it was okay. The spark fizzled in my mind. I glanced at her sidelong in discomfort. This was getting far too bizarre. Chloe grinned crookedly as though she sensed my unease and found it amusing.

Then all of us, including dad, were shaken by a booming cry.

Our mother had arrived home. If I weren't feeling so tense, I might have found it irritating that everyone had arrived home noiselessly, giving me no forewarning. At first, my mother's words were incomprehensible over the shrillness of her voice. She babbled on like that for about a minute whilst we all stood frozen in place. Then, we heard her pounding out of the dining area towards the stairs.

She hollered, "What the hell is going on here? Martin! Why are all those letters on the table for the kids to see? Are you up there?"

His mouth would not budge to answer her. She then howled with a tone so full of rage that it sent chills down my spine, "MARTIN! FOR FUCK SAKE, ANSWER ME!"

Chloe inhaled sharply and pressed her face right against my side. I loosened one hand, which made her frantic, but then I placed my arm securely around her shoulders.

Finally, in a hoarse voice, dad managed to sound two words: "Up here."

She strode upstairs, throwing her weight into each step. Dad was brave enough to turn to face her, blocking the doorway of my room. She seemed to just appear before dad, moving sideways like some gliding demon. Her expression was apoplectic. She was shaking uncontrollably with rage. Her pupils had dilated fully, leaving only a thin shimmer of blue around them. Her upper lip curled up in an animalistic snarl.

Though all the signs were that she'd roar us deaf, her tone was disturbingly icy and even. "What is your problem? We agreed to wait to tell them – how could you be so careless?"

"I-I didn't…"

Ignoring him, my mother continued. "Now look what we have to deal with, on top of everything else. This transition will be difficult enough without them complaining and giving us attitude all the while."

Dad clearly didn't have a handle on the situation, he was too traumatised. So, being the only one willing to stand up to her, I stepped in for him. "Dad didn't leave the letters to be found. I came home early and found them."

"And you opened them? How dare you. That was none of your business."

"None of my business, huh, interesting. Like it's none of my business that I'm going to have to leave school in the middle of 5th year? That once we leave here, I'll have to quit my job? Oh, and my personal favorite, you using up our college funds, so we can have some semblance of an existence after your squandering."

She pierced my dad with narrowed, venomous eyes and demanded with a hiss, "You told them we used the college savings?"

"No, he didn't," I replied with a sneer.

Realising she'd been baited, she inhaled sharply prepping for another unintelligible rant. She contained a scream with gritted teeth before storming into the room. Chloe instinctively fell in behind me. It was a sad thing that she knew it as the only safe haven from our mother. My mother was several inches shorter than me. Even when she'd been physically stronger, I had never let myself be intimidated by her, though, back then, I thought of it as bravery. However, I looked down upon her now both literally _and_ figuratively. She stopped two feet from us and continued to make animal sounds like snarls, growls, and hisses. To me, she had about as much credibility in that moment as an irritable Yorkshire terrier.

Adding to that persona, she barked, "How dare you judge me. I've done nothing but provide for you ungrateful brats since the day you wormed out of me. If I hadn't used that money, there'd have been no food on the table for the past two months. There wouldn't have been electricity either, so you could play your precious videogames or watch your geeky documentaries."

She grew more deplorable by the second. I had to respond. "And if you hadn't gotten in so much debt and curbed your spending a bit, you wouldn't have needed to use the college money!"

"I'll live my life however I choose. I'm your mother, and it's not for you to decide what's important – what we need."

"Yes because we need _Marks & Spencer's _food_,_ we need _Calvin Klein_ tops and _Ben Sherman_ jeans, we need a fulltime housekeeper. God, you're crazy if you think any of those things are more important than your family's well-being. You're so wound up in yourself and appearances that we just fall to the wayside. You only want the best for yourself, so you can appear the best in every way. I mean, god forbid you had a stray eyebrow hair or a streak of tan because mother's 'beauty' regimen has to be professionally done. Did you ever consider, especially after dad lost his job, that maybe we couldn't live like that anymore?"

Sounding like a petulant child, she shrieked, "I don't care! I want it. I can get it. So I will have it! That is what I've worked for all my life!"

"So you never worked for us? Nice. What a good, fucking mother you are."

"I do for you two only what I have to, what I am _obligated_ to do. Feed you, clothe you, house you, give you an education. I'm glad Kevin wasn't so dependent on me; I couldn't have tolerated _three_ helpless runts."

I pulled my lips into a tight line, and my eyes widened with rage. My vision was changing. Dilated pupils were the first sign that the blackness had been triggered. I felt heat behind my eyes and knew I was going to explode. Chloe focused on my face, my eyes especially, with intense scrutiny, as though she were concentrating. I knew something was up with her. Perhaps she was someway different like me. Whatever it was, if she had the ability to temper me somehow, then it was obvious she was struggling.

I tried to siphon off the fire verbally. "You are inhuman, the poorest excuse for a mother I've ever seen in my life. You don't deserve any of us."

She shrugged off my statement and replied, "Whatever, it's not like I wanted any of you in the first place. The only reason you exist is because your father wanted heirs. If only I had been more ruthless back then."

Chloe was whimpering. My dad finally found some guts. "You mean, if you'd been more selfish? How could you say that?"

She totally ignored him. The fire was alight in my mind. It flowed to that place in my cranium that drew upon it, like a river to the sea. However, the fire felt hindered, its flow obstructed. Through her tears, I could see Chloe's focus on me had not broken.

"You disgust me. We'd all be so much better off without you. I hope you burn in hell, you callous bitch," I said.

She raised a hand. This was it. If she hit me, I knew I would snap. I think Chloe knew that, too. She interceded. She tried to deflect my mother's hand. In her uncaring fit of anger, she became incensed by Chloe's interference. She grabbed her by the locks of her wavy, golden hair that stretched past her waist and flung her to the ground. Chloe's head cracked off the bottom-left corner of my wardrobe. Blood spurted as Chloe tried to raise her head, in a complete stupor. Whatever restraining influence she had on me was gone. My mother went for me again.

As I predicted, I snapped, but only for an instant. But in that instant, I wrapped the blackness around her hand and squeezed with all my strength.

She screeched in surprised agony. Dad, of course being the fool that he was, still ran to her side. As she fell to the ground and thrashed wildly, still screaming, he managed to secure her forearm and examine her hand. Every bone in her hand and fingers had crumbled. My parents worked in scientific fields, so neither of them seemed to place any blame on me for this freak "accident".

_Well, she won't be hitting anyone with that hand again anytime soon_, was my only thought.

Then, my mother let out a scream so chilling that I forgot to breathe. I stared at her for a long moment thinking maybe I'd gone too far. I knew her injury was bad, but it honestly looked as though she was dying. Then, out of corner of my eye, I noticed Chloe. She lay on her side, her head propped against my wardrobe. Little rivulets of blood streamed down her face from a nasty gash on her forehead. She probably needed stitches. Her eyes were simultaneously glazed over, but focused…on our mother.

Mother writhed uncontrollably and seized up at irregular intervals. Her cries of pain had become so high-pitched, they were inaudible. Suddenly, she stopped moving and went limp. Dad was catatonic, but sprang into action like an automated doctor. He pressed down hard on her chest and huffed air down her throat. I felt the blood drain from my face faster than the fire burnt out within me. I shot a frantic look at Chloe. She was the colour of fresh snow, which made the crimson blood on her face all the more prominent. Dad continued his efforts to resuscitate Mother.

Then, he uttered before hysteria had him, "No, no, my Orla, please, God no!"

Dad collapsed in mournful madness, his streaming tears dripping on my mother's whitening face. Her eyes were wide open still and stared back at Chloe with frozen terror. I immediately inserted myself between them, and Chloe jumped. Her expression told me she had intended to do something bad but ended up causing something much worse. She couldn't look at me.

She was traumatised, but I couldn't help but ask, "Chloe, what did you do?"

"I…I wanted her to feel it," she replied.

"Feel what?" I asked.

"The pain, all of the pain she caused."

"How?" I asked.

"I searched for her sense of empathy, compassion…and turned it against her, amplified it."

"Why?"

"I only…wanted her to feel…remorse, guilt for once. I didn't think it would stop her heart."

She was petrified to the core, and all her intended effects seemed to have come back upon her. She was nine and had to live with causing her mother's death by deliberate action. I could only comfort her by pulling her up into my arms. Her warm blood dripped onto my shoulder along with her salty tears. We were afraid, but not of consequences. Dad would say it was a freak event, and he had not heard our exchange through his wailing. What we feared was what we were and what we could do. Without discipline, we were a danger to everyone and ourselves.

I don't know how long we were in that room before dad thought to call someone. He had no credit on his mobile, so he used the landline. It was cut off. He ran outside to a payphone down the street with the loose change in our penny jar. Then, just that second, came the insult after the injury: the power shut off. It was dull as twilight set in, but enough light filtered in to give the room a bluish glow. There was a full moon that evening, and its light bathed my mother's body in a weak radiance. In this ghostly light, the whites of her eyes seemed to stand out on her still horrified expression. Chloe was terrified, so I helped her out of the room. She stumbled next-door to her own room and disappeared inside, leaving the door open for me.

Before I shut my door, I saw Mother's face again. Her eyes seemed to follow me like the _Mona Lisa_ portrait. Guardedly, I moved to her side. Besides the raised bumps on her hand where bones had fractured, there were no obvious signs of damage. She would have had to live longer for bruising to become apparent. All in all, she was as perfect-looking in death as she probably wanted to be. Her white blonde hair framed her face, her tanned skin covered some of the paleness, and she was dressed in a formal but dashing outfit. I placed my hand against her cold skin. I slowly brought my fingers from her brow to her eyelids, closing them gently. I pulled the sheet from my bed and covered her with it. I took one more look at her face before I did so.

I never loved my mother, I realised.

I wished her suffering just before she died, which Chloe had supplied in a form I could never have imagined. She made her regret. It was so much worse than the physical pain I had caused her that her heart gave out. I could not feel pity for her dying in realisation of the horrible person she had been. I did, however, feel bad for how she had suffered and how my dad was suffering. I felt a sliver of grief. I knew, by right, I should've felt so much more.

I stared at the resplendent moon through Chloe's bedroom window, keeping a watchful eye on her passed out upon her bed. Gardaí and paramedics filed into the house, and I heard them remove my mother's body. They had questioned us, and we just reconfirmed dad's testimony, that she had broken her hand and had gone into cardiac arrest from the shock. It was a lame story, but there wasn't another explanation that made sense, at least not to everyone else. Chloe sobbed and mumbled in her sleep. She was having bad dreams.

A bad dream, I could only wish that was what this was.

We would soon be leaving for our place in Kilkee. As I suspected, they'd kept up the rent payments in case we were to lose the house. Dad had no way to support us once we got there, and he had to arrange a funeral on top of that, but he at least would strive to work things out for our sake. He'd called Kevin, and Kevin said he'd return home by following morning. _What a day. I am nearly beaten to death, I am practically expelled, I find I no longer have a school, a job or a home to go to, and my mother is dead, killed by my little sister_. Our lives were in havoc for the time being. Even after that subsided, we'd still face months of limbo until things settled down. Without work, I'd lose the insurance and tax on my car, I'd never get money together for college, and I'd probably have to start 5th year again next September, unless a school in Ennis had space for me.

I grimaced as I pictured this tragic mess in my head. I winced at how long it would take for some sense of normality to return. I cursed my dad for being so spineless and my mother for being so heartless. I flinched. _Bad choice of words_, I thought. I strolled to the window and saw my dad perched on a deck chair in the back garden. He held a glass bottle whose contents I didn't need to guess at. He seemed oddly animated. He was restless, I surmised. I imagined he couldn't stand to be in this house anymore. I could relate, having felt that way since we moved to Galway, though for less poignant reasons. It was perhaps appropriate that the house was being foreclosed.

Foreclosure, repossession of a person's home, yes, but also the exclusion from a person's compass of hopes, dreams, of possibilities. It wasn't just our home, our lives were in foreclosure, and so they would be for a long time to come. I couldn't imagine, then, anything more miserable than our sorry existence.


	3. Chapter 3 Prodigal

3. PRODIGAL

It was another bitter January morning in Kilkee. This winter had been especially brutal and though it was almost over, with the end of the month at hand, I didn't hold any high hopes for February. Although Kilkee is located on the Atlantic coast of County Clare, in the far west of Ireland, it had not escaped the Arctic weather. The temperature never rose above zero all day and at night, it dropped to a nippy minus thirteen degrees Celsius. Hoar frost covered every available surface from the tree limbs to wall ledges to the blades of grass. The sky was overcast with clouds that were ever so faintly grey, but that just added to the gloom.

Occasionally, the clouds would deepen in hue, signalling the arrival of a snow shower. This had particularly irritated me because we'd been forced to endure the biting cold but did not get a white Christmas in return, or any significant snowfalls all winter for that matter. Still, this Christmas would have been morbid and subdued regardless of the weather conditions.

It was our first without our mother.

Autumn to winter had been a hellish transition. After my mother's body was removed from the house, the Gardaí became suspicious, especially after the post mortem results. She had broken her hand all right, but the injury was not consistent with falling down awkwardly, which was the only feasible excuse dad could come up with on short notice. Her hand was not so much fractured but smashed into dozens of pieces as though it had been pummelled by a sledgehammer, or a truck had rolled over it.

Moreover, her heart was in perfect condition. It just stopped. Whilst her broken hand was a traumatic injury, they weren't sure if it was enough to provoke a heart attack. They questioned all of us again and again, and we returned the same consistent story again and again. Finally, by the end of October, they gave up, not because they were satisfied with our testimony but for lack of evidence to gainsay it.

Kevin had been at our house all the while, clearing our stuff out of the house which, as threatened, was being foreclosed. He moved everything to our former home in Kilkee.

November proved to be a little less frenzied but no less miserable. Dad had a court appointment in which he was declared bankrupt. We ended up surrendering not just the house but the cars and everything bought with loaned money. The plasma TV sets, surround sound systems, laptops, home computer, blu ray DVD player, Playstation, and my mother's numerous over the top kitchen appliances were all repossessed. In the end, Kevin's load had been lightened enough that he'd only made two round trips in his car to move our remaining belongings.

We were delayed arranging the funeral, which seemed to worsen my dad's broken state. That's the only word I can think of to aptly describe him that month and every month thereafter. As much as my parents' relationship seemed wholly out of balance in favour of my mother, it was probably because my dad's love for her was passionate and obsessive. He worshipped the ground she walked on, the air she breathed, everything she touched. She completed him, and there were times when I saw that his fixation wasn't entirely one way. So what was he without her? A string-less violin? A wingless bird? A waterless fountain? I think the question he was really asking himself was what _good_ was he without her?

At the funeral, at least, he realised he was still a father, he still had his children, and that they needed him then more than ever to survive and get through this. Chloe was in hysterics for most of it. She could barely stifle the wails during the ceremony, and the tears never stopped flowing. She felt such guilt, mostly for how she'd hurt dad. When we had arrived at my mother's viewing, she'd almost fainted on seeing the casket and ran from the funeral home crying. She nearly got the whole way to our old home before I caught up with her.

Kevin was stoic as always, the rock, the strong one. I wished he'd act human for once, but there was no penetrating that cold, hard exterior to his small, small heart. Even I found myself a little teary-eyed and depressed from time to time. Through most of it, though, I just wanted it to end so we could put this episode behind us. It was not heartlessness but worry for the effect that this was having on my dad, and Chloe especially. She was so petrified and between outbursts of raw sorrow, she became catatonic, not wanting to do anything but sleep. Then, when she would finally drift off, she'd awake screaming from night terrors. Most of it would be incoherent, but she always repeated the same three words as she woke: "I killed her."

The weeks after the funeral were somewhat encouraging. Dad found a new job in Ennis General Hospital, who were short staffed but still stingy on pay. It was a job though, and it was a distraction from his pain. Chloe enrolled in the local primary school, the one Kevin and I had attended, and that provided numerous diversions. It was enough to lessen her night terrors and to return some sense of normality. Still, she was not the same child. She'd become quiet, distant, reclusive, and melancholic. Exactly what I didn't want for her. I never wanted her to turn out like me. Kevin, as expected, returned to college to finish his final year, but his visits became more regular, and he tried to come up every fortnight.

For me, things weren't as peachy.

There was no room for me in any nearby secondary schools, unless I wanted to travel over two hours to one in Limerick City. I decided instead to wait and just enroll in a school in Ennis next September as I had suspected I would. In the meantime, I found work for myself, not in Kilkee though, but in a Shannon petrol station.

I had an aversion to venturing into the town. Undoubtedly, I was seen as the wicked boy who had brought tragedy and grief to this community. My stupidity and unruly behaviour had cost the lives of four boys, three of them little older than I was now and the fourth, my best friend, only thirteen. Even after being there for three months, I'd managed to avoid going into Kilkee entirely. I confined myself to the house with a good book or two most of my off-days. I often worked a ten-hour shift in the _Top_ station and given the hour and a half it took me to drive each way, that was thirteen hours of my day gone five days of the week. I was usually shattered when I came home and only fit for bed. It worked out very well for me.

There were occasions, though, when I found the urge to drive somewhere, just to be in a different place. The beach was often my personal bolt hole, despite the inclement weather conditions. In spite of the salty spray carried upon a glacial gale, it was strangely refreshing, liberating. Since none of the relatively sane people in town would brave the elements, I was always alone there. That was my only regular haunt, though. Sometimes, I'd just drive with no particular destination in mind. Just like my school days, it had become easier to keep moving or hide, rather than face the people around me.

December was the month we all hit rock bottom. Dad was severely depressed, celebrating Christmas without his wife. The fact that he couldn't afford a tree, decorations, or even food, let alone presents, was all the more heartbreaking for him. Though none of us expressed shame or disappointment and did everything possible to show that we understood, it wasn't enough.

As the 25th came and went, he snapped mentally and completely broke down into abject despair. He developed a drinking habit. At first, he'd be at the local pub maybe four nights a week. Then, January came and it turned from a habit to alcoholism. He drank out less and less, but he'd come home from the off-licence with several bottles of strong spirits, ranging from vodka to brandy to whiskey. He would sit in the kitchen and drink at least one every night before crawling to the bathroom with illness or passing out before making it to his bed. I'd wake for work some mornings and find him still drunk or very hung-over. At least he was meticulous about being presentable for work, as his morning routine included several litres of water, any number of painkilling tablets, and an hour-long shower.

Still, I knew he was destroying his health and being a doctor, he should have known that better than me. I doubted that mattered to him anymore. He probably only cared to live long enough to see us off into the world.

As for the rest of us, Christmas and the New Year just brought more of the same, but Chloe seemed to sink deeper by the day. I tried to get her to talk about it, but she would only hyperventilate and panic when she thought about it. It was hard to understand what happened and how she was feeling without knowing more about what she could _do_. Yet, any conversation about her ability only drew her back to the evening of October 5th.

Her ability seemed to have something to do with emotions, both those that brought joy and those that brought pain. She seemed very aware of how people were feeling, as I discovered in regards her suppression of my ability. She knew when I was angry or hurt that I needed to be calmed or else the blackness would take hold. Perhaps then, being exposed to emotion everyday by way of her ability, it acted as a constant reminder. At least that's what I assumed. While I and anyone else picked up on subtle cues to figure out how another person was feeling, Chloe just knew. She couldn't block out that part of her and therefore, she couldn't forget.

She managed to act fairly normal in school, according to her teachers, not her bubbly, outgoing self but not depressed or jumpy. At home, she didn't try as hard but when my concern for her reached a peak, it would dissolve, melting away into an eerie contentment. I knew, then, she was still using her power but could never confront her about it.

I wondered, too, how dad was affecting her. If she could sense his emotions as well as mine, it must have been torment for her. All the sorrow, guilt, remorse, anger, regret, the absolute, unmitigated anguish bombarding her as though dad was shouting his feelings into a speakerphone right at her. She might not have known all the underlying thoughts that were the root of those emotions, but it couldn't be hard to guess. For that reason, I tried my best to keep a hold on my own disquiet in order to make things just that bit easier for her. I failed miserably, of course. Chloe was the only person in my life who was truly important. Perhaps that was harsh in regards my dad and elder brother, but the reality was I would go through either of them to protect her. I really would sacrifice anything, even my life, for my little sister.

So then, on this the last day of winter, I faced another day of effort, effort in general but mostly the effort to distract myself. I needed to divert my focus from constant worry for Chloe's depression, dad's tenuous grip on his sanity, and my own dissatisfaction with just living for its own sake. I wanted more than to eat, work, and sleep against a backdrop of grief and moroseness. I clung desperately to the hope that someday, things would get easier, that they would change. Yet, my own traitorous sense of realism quelled any such optimism before it had even taken root. Already, the elements were conspiring to make this month as bad as those that had passed.

I listened to a _RTE_ weather report on the radio as my little blue Ford braved the harshness of another dark, winter's morning. Apparently, the snow that we had been promised all through winter would finally make its appearance on the first week of February. They were expecting at least a couple of inches on the low ground and up to a foot at higher levels, more snow than Ireland had seen in decades. Already, there were sprinklings of powder coating the fields and the road as the snow showers grew more frequent. It made driving a treacherous endeavour, but I refused to be entrapped by the wintry weather, until I physically couldn't get my car out of the driveway.

As the weatherman droned on about the invariable conditions anticipated for the coming week, I was distracted by a flurry of snowflakes that had all at once splattered against my windscreen. My hand slipped off the wheel, and I was thrown into a skid on the icy road. The car fishtailed briefly, but I managed to slow her down and straighten up, putting myself back on the proper lane. My heart pounded like there was a drum set in my chest, and my body went rigid as I focused more on my driving.

My journey had just begun and already things were going wrong, but this wasn't the first "event" of the morning. I had slept through my alarm and had to skip breakfast in order to be to work on time. I got dressed haphazardly in my jeans and short-sleeved work shirt and raced downstairs. It was a good thing I looked before I ran, or I would've tripped over dad. This time he'd gotten himself so intoxicated that he hadn't even made it up the stairs, and he lay in a scrunched up bundle against the first step. I got him as far as his room and left him on his side in bed as he was off work that day. Then, Chloe emerged from the bathroom. She was pale as white marble, and her eyes were swollen and red. Her voice was hoarse with a sore throat. "I got sick."

I felt her forehead, but she was not warm, in fact, she was shivering with cold. I brought her back to her bed and got a bucket and a pint of water. The room felt freezing, even more so than the rest of the house. I huffed out air, and I could see my breath. Then, I felt a chilling breeze brush the back of my neck. I turned towards the window and parted the curtains. The panel had been left open all night with the subzero conditions blowing in on top of her. I gritted my teeth and contained my rage.

Kevin had been here over the weekend for his Christmas holidays. This was originally his room, and he usually made Chloe move back to her own room when he was home. He had little tolerance for warmth of any degree, and summer was his most hated season of the year. Despite the fact that at night the house was fairly cool, he still opened the windows to let in some of the raw Arctic wind. He always forgot to close it afterwards. Chloe was too short to reach it, and there was nothing in the room she could stand upon. Kevin wouldn't be back to college until the following week, and he'd taken a few days off from work. He'd be back from Cork this evening, and I'd have a few words for him.

As I left, I discovered the reason for dad's humongous hangover, a shattered bottle of absinthe, completely consumed. I did not dwell upon it because it would only have infuriated me further. I dropped in on him before I headed out to tell him about Chloe and, in no uncertain terms, told him I would not be _pleased_ if he wasn't up soon to look after her. After the car took several attempts to splutter to life, I thought I was home free, until the snow showers followed me all the way to Shannon.

When the nine-o clock morning news aired on the radio, I knew I was in trouble. I should've already been at the station, and I was at least ten minutes away. I was making good time, all things considered, seeing as I was half an hour late going out the door, and speeding wasn't an option on the ice-rink roads. I pulled into my usual space closest the exit at ten-past nine. The sun had barely peeked above the horizon, but the overcast skies made it seem like it was still night. I bounced out of my car, skidding on a patch of slushy snow and forgetting to lock the door, until I'd stepped inside the shop. I rushed out and back in hastily to avoid the falling snowflakes, which drained the heat from my body as they touched my skin.

My boss, Mr. Andy O' Connell, didn't give me a hard time, to my relief, admitting he'd been late himself, arriving only a few minutes before me. In fact, he was impressed with my dedication that I'd managed the journey from Kilkee on a day like this when he himself, living only ten minutes away, had barely beat me. He was grateful, too, because already his other two employees, who were supposed to be on today, had called in sick. That meant I was on the deli counter whilst he was on tills. It was going to be nightmarish, or so I thought.

An hour later and we'd had fewer than ten customers when usually dozens of people would've been queuing out the door for breakfast rolls and a cup of coffee. That trend continued until lunch hour when perhaps twenty people came at the one time. That was hectic but manageable. Thereafter, the number of customers dwindled, until the place was so dead, a cemetery would seem livelier. I suspected it was something to do with the adverse weather conditions. Nobody wanted to get out of bed this morning and face into the bitter cold, much less the perilous driving conditions.

Even as the snowfall increased as the day wore on, there were no children on the streets having snowball fights or building snowmen. No cars passed either, and Andy was already fretting about how little petrol we'd sold. For the deli counter and the shop in general, it had been a day of poor returns. Andy decided we'd close at six instead of nine. It made little difference to me because I only worked until seven anyway. Still, as I gazed out the windows at the deepening snow, I was thankful for the extra time to get home.

At three in the afternoon, I called dad to check in on Chloe.

His tone was as neutral as he could manage, given how haggard he was from the night before, "_She's not so great, Jason. I might have to take her to the hospital if this gets much worse._"

"What time were you up, dad?" I asked questioningly.

"_Don't worry, I've been watching her since half-nine this morning._" I believed him because he managed to input some emotion into his voice.

I continued. "Grand, what's wrong exactly anyways?"

"_She's got the flu. High temperature, cough, sore throat, cold sweat, the works. She'll be down and out for the week at least._"

"I don't get it. This morning she was freezing and throwing up."

"_Well, she was just cold because of the open window, Jason. The throwing up I can't explain. It's inconsistent with her illness._" He was using his cold, clinical doctor's tone as though he were speaking to a concerned family member of one of his patients.

I replied, "Okay, is Kevin home yet?"

There was a pause. "_He's here, yes._"

"Can he come to the phone?" I asked impatiently.

Another irritatingly, long pause, "_He's busy at the moment, Jason. Sure, you can speak to him when you're back._"

"Coward, afraid of his little brother, is he?"

"_Jason, you're being unreasonable._"

"Yeah whatever, I'll be home later to rake him over the coals anyhow. Thanks for the update, bye!" I slammed down the phone.

I wasn't that furious with my dad, so I ended the conversation before things escalated. It was coming up on six so at best possible speed, I'd be home for eight. _Someone with a bedside manner should really be there for Chloe_, I thought. I glanced out the window again to see windblown snow gathering in every crevice and corner, and it was getting heavier, too. I wondered would I even make it home tonight. The weather reports on the radio had become increasingly dire. Apparently, the system that was supposed to start bringing snow tomorrow was moving in faster than predicted. The heaviest falls were expected in the north and west of the country from this evening right through the night. In other words, I was screwed.

The news segment arrived early. Most of it was the usual dribble: politics, the weather, sports news, and more politics. I went to my happy place for most of it.

Then, as if to pre-empt the news presenter, Andy popped up beside my till and said in an ominous tone, "Have you heard the strange news?"

I jumped because I had not seen him approach and because of his tone, which imitated some cartoon villain making threats. I found him very flamboyant and immature for a forty-year old man. It often brought me discomfort. Ignoring my perturbed expression, he asked impatiently, "Well?"

"Ah, no, what news would that be?"

"They just said it there on the radio," he replied, seeming shocked I didn't comprehend.

"I wasn't listening." I said.

He sighed and began explaining, "The disappearances. Last Thursday, three people went missing around Galway City."

I was unimpressed. "So? People go missing all the time."

"Yes, but there have been unexplained disappearances for months, and these three people were all taken right out of their cars, all their belongings untouched, including wallets and phones, and no bodies have been found. Just small trails of blood at each scene."

Still uninterested, I replied, "They could've just been kidnapped. Who's to say they were murdered?"

Frustrated with me, he said, "I know that's possible, but it's the speed and how public they were, and there were no witnesses."

This piqued my curiosity a little, "No witnesses? None at all? Where they abducted from the middle of nowhere?"

"Nope, one was taken from her car as she pulled up in a busy parking lot, and the other two were taken from their cars on traffic-jammed highways. The windows were just smashed, they were yanked out, and they were just gone!"

"Huh, weird." I said.

I was paying a little more attention, but he obviously expected greater enthusiasm. He continued, "And whoever they are, they're moving south."

I eyed him seriously and asked, "What do you mean?"

"The news report, man! Oh yeah, wait, you weren't listening." He leant in conspiratorally and continued in a hushed voice, as though someone might be listening, "Well, two tourists went missing near the Burren on Saturday, all their gear and their vehicle was secure. They just disappeared with a small trail of blood left behind. They're examining a third scene just outside of Ennis that happened today under similar circumstances. Isn't it creepy, man?"

"Sounds like you're describing the bogeyman."

"Ugh! Man, this is not to be taken lightly."

"Of course not. Who knows, I might be swept up out of nowhere and end up on a yellow brick road, how frightening!"

"You really need to put a cap on the sarcasm," he replied huffily.

"Those poor tourists. I feel bad but seriously, who goes camping in the Burren in January? Do these people have weather forecasts?"

He gave up and was about to stomp away when he gasped at something down the aisle. A car had pulled up very silently at the petrol pumps. It was hard to believe anyone would brave the approaching blizzard for petrol at this time with darkness falling. The car was definitely a sport's design , a very expensive looking one in fact, but I could not determine what brand name it might be. However, it was not the vehicle that had caused Andy's reaction but its owners. They had entered the shop without either of us noticing, which wasn't unusual in itself, except that one of them was standing right before us.

He was surreal in appearance. He wore nothing but a pair of jeans and plain black t-shirt, which was odd given the weather. He was taller than me with a very muscled, solid frame that was intimidating in itself. His arms alone looked like they could braid steel. His skin was blanched as white as alabaster, which I thought was because he was cold, but the tone was unchanging, even in the indoor warmth. His hair was cropped very short and was hazel-coloured. His eyes, though, were what drew my attention the most. The irises looked fluid, as though something were flowing in circles around his pinpoint pupils, but the colour, so vivid, was the colour of blood.

"Fifty euro petrol," he said.

He held out the crisp, fresh note to me, and I took it delicately. His voice was so smooth with no guttural or raspy noises or any spitting; it just flowed out easily and eloquently like it was computerised. I looked up again warily to thank him when a spark of recognition burnt through me. I was so zoned out by his peculiar looks that I hadn't really stepped back and taken a proper look at his face.

The man before me was a teenager really, my age, much more bulky than I remembered. His appearance was definitely altered and where once he spoke with rough abruptness, there was soft annunciation of every syllable. It was like replacing frayed wool with satin. Yes, this was the face I remembered, not much besides the build, eyes, and skin had changed. It was the last person in the world I wanted to see.

It was Danny Callaghan.

He eyed me curiously for a few brief moments until, much to my dismay, he recognised me, too. I thought he made a low growl. Andy was still transfixed by Danny's accomplice who was obscured from my view by the shelves as he made his way to the ATM. I tensed myself as his red eyes narrowed, and he favoured me with a vicious grin, baring his teeth. I could have shook apart or wet myself with terror, but I couldn't decide why that was. I had been afraid the last time we met but not of him in particular, just the fact of facing him and three of his friends. He was only two, and this was a public place with the Garda station just down the road.

Yet, my fear seemed so ingrained, almost instinctual that when I met his gaze, I felt the urge to cower away and run for cover. Yet, at the same time, an opposing force seemed to draw me back like looking at the sun, though you know you shouldn't.

His hostility diminished a little as he spoke but never vanished completely from his expression. "Jason, we meet again. To think of all the petrol stations we could have stopped at, and it happens to be the one you work at. It's such a small world," he said condescendingly.

I cleared my throat and replied, "Isn't it just."

I hoped he would leave, but that was optimism of the nth degree. As misfortune would have it, he continued, "So Jason, I hear your family ran into a bit of difficulty."

I grimaced and replied, "You could say that."

"I'll say! Foreclosure, bankruptcy, _death_, such awful calamities to befall a family all at once."

Someone with less self-control would already be over the counter to him, but I would not be goaded into doing something he would most certainly use against me, legally.

I stared him down as sternly as my nerves would allow and said, "You've been served, Danny. I suggest you leave."

"Now, is that anyway to speak to a customer or a former acquaintance? Perhaps you'd like to hear how life's been treating me since our last meeting."

I already knew. Although Danny was the most popular of his little pack of bullies, his parents were certainly not the most affluent of the group. His friends' parents were able to get their sons off scot-free without even a blemish on their records. Danny's lawyer was less experienced and ended up reaching a plea bargain. Rather than have him tried as an adult and face years in an adult prison, he was tried as a juvenile and spent from October to the New Year in a juvenile detention facility.

Clearly, he made use of the gym there, but I could not speak to his other peculiar alterations, though I guessed it was probably drug-related. Despite my foreknowledge, I let him rant about it anyways. He hissed and snapped his teeth together frequently, which was disconcerting, but I refused to flinch or show any sign of weakness.

Once he was done, he continued to menace me with his horrific eyes. I said to him, remaining firm, "Danny, I've said this before, and I'll say it again. I don't want any crap from you. However, this time, if you do try anything, I can have the Guards here in under a minute."

"Mmm, bring 'em on." He licked his lips. He was definitely high on something. He continued, "You can't stop me, Jason. You can't scare me off anymore, and I'm sure, this time, I can finish the job before you use your freaky powers on me."

He remembered that. I was caught off guard, and I think I gasped, but I was too in awe of the situation. He smiled victoriously and pressed his hands down upon the plywood countertop. He pressed so hard that his hands made impressions in it. Steroids, that was the only thing I could come up with to explain his freakish build and strength after only a few short months. Then, I yelped in pain.

The ends of his fingers caught my middle finger, and I flung it up towards to my face. I scrutinised the damage. My nail was cracked lengthwise, but the pain was far greater than that injury could explain. I suspected the finger bone had fractured. Still, that was not the thing that shocked me the most. The coldness of his skin, so intense, much more so than a person who'd simply been out in cold weather. His skin felt hard, too, like granite or marble. It was bizarre to say the least. The blackness had been provoked. I could feel a line of heat tracing between my finger and the base of my skull, leading deep inside my head. My pupils had dilated, and Danny smirked as though he recognised the signs.

He said sarcastically, "Try and choke me now, freak boy."

I imagined doing it. Billowing tendrils were beginning to reach for him. Then, I was stopped in my tracks. Danny's partner suddenly appeared by his side, and I could see why Andy had been so gobsmacked. _She_ was angelic in every sense, as though she'd fallen from the heavens to walk amongst men. Her silky golden hair framed her face perfectly, draping down to her shoulders before curving up at the ends. Her skin was white but smooth and translucent like porcelain. Her shape was trim and sleek under dark skinny jeans, a close-fitting, blue t-shirt, and a black, netty shrug. Her facial features were all completely symmetrical with a broad forehead, sharply angular chin contrasting with a dainty nose and full lips and cheeks. Her eyes were similarly red. Yet, they were not as bright as Danny's. Hers were a darker shade, perhaps burgundy.

_Burgundy? Why does that seem so familiar? _I asked in my head.

Danny gritted his teeth, making a painfully loud grinding sound. He raised his hands and threw one arm around the painfully beautiful woman. At least, that's how it was for me. I couldn't comprehend what such a woman would be doing with Danny. I didn't see how muscles would hold her attention when she also had to look at his face.

He spoke with pride, "I don't believe I've introduced my lady. This is Sophia." Without breaking his gaze on me, he said to her, "My love, how about it? What do you say to these two? You can have the older one if you want."

I hoped to God he was still talking about beating me. She regarded me for the briefest of moments but that glance felt like icicles piercing my skin, their frigidness trickling within my veins. She grabbed him forcibly by the arm, but he did not budge. She said severely, "Danny, this is not the time or the place." Her voice sounded like the speech equivalent of delicate silk. It made me dizzy with its rich expressiveness within her thick, European accent. I could not tell if it was French or Italian.

"But I _want_ him! You can't deny me this chance," he growled

Her glare intensified, and he seemed to wither under it. She pulled him along towards the door. He looked at me longingly, and I thought I heard her whisper something to him, it sounded like "patience".

Before heading out the door, he called to me, "I guess I've one thing to be grateful to you for. If you hadn't caught me that day, I would never have met Sophia or experienced this second life, this _freedom_. Maybe just for that, I'll let you live a little longer."

Then, he was gone. They were in their car and driving off into the bleak snowstorm faster than I could recompose myself. Andy was way behind me as I distracted myself, counting up our takings for the day.

"You…knew him?" He asked eventually, still stunned.

"No, but I despised him."

The drive home turned out to be more hazardous than I imagined. The snow was really coming down, and the wind gusts occasionally lobbed enough at my windshield to temporarily leave me driving blind. My wipers struggled with the dense precipitation and squeaked loudly enough to make me wince with each succession. Even with full beams on, it was a struggle to see more than a few dozen yards ahead.

My biggest fear was that the car would stall out. I had brought no gear to keep me warm in this kind of weather, no blankets, no warm clothes, no flashlight, no food or water. Mobile reception around here was iffy at the best of times. Though the heater was on full blast, I still had goosebumps on my arms. Then again, my work clothes weren't exactly weather appropriate. I had a few scares along the way. The heater cut out and spurted back to life several times and once, the car did conk out. I felt the icy air outside seeping in on me, and my windows got caked in snow within seconds. I panicked as I struggled with the ignition. I knew I didn't want to freeze to death, but that wasn't the sole source of my anxiety.

It was where I was stopped.

I was but a dozen or so miles south of the Burren, where those two tourists had gone missing. On top of that, I had not left Ennis far behind. That town was in panic mode. Passing through, it seemed dead, even considering the weather. It was all too frighteningly familiar. I was alone on a deserted road in my car. It would be all too easy to catch me unawares and then do away with me before anyone realised I was missing. I turned the key frenetically, but the engine answered me with only a few dull rumbles. I kept at it, but I saw a sudden darkness out of the corner of my eye.

From my indirect view, I imagined someone had appeared at my window, ready to smash it and drag me away to be slowly murdered. I jumped, but the strange shadow was no longer there when I looked, only a thickening layer of snow. Trying desperately to control my breathing (and miserably failing), I finally resurrected my crappy, little Ford, and I was back on track. I speeded more than I should have but that disturbed feeling I had in the pit of my stomach made me race home to perceived safety.

I managed to make it the rest of the way there without incident. It had taken me half an hour longer than I'd predicted. Having finished at six, it was almost nine before I was home. I was a few minutes outside of town when my lights caught a glimmer of something red and shiny. Then, there were two such spots. A dark shape formed around them like a body, like seeing the dark side of the moon during its crescent phase. I realised they were the reflectors of a car.

As I approached, the driver-side door swung open and someone in a heavy overcoat lurched out and waved me down eagerly. It was a woman as far as I could tell, and she seemed elated that I'd stopped for her. She came to the passenger side of my car and yanked the door open, seated herself, and smacked it closed just as quickly. Then, her face met mine, and I was suddenly hollow and speechless.

I felt burning warmth inside, but my skin prickled and tensed with the icy sensation that enveloped me. I was forgetting to breathe, and light-headedness was setting in. My eyes were wide. It felt like they were rapidly losing moisture. I blinked only once, just to allow myself confirmation that this was happening; that I was stuck in a car with the last person I wanted to meet, ever! The one person who I mainly avoided going into Kilkee for.

Kathy O' Reardon, mother of my friend Fionn, who died in the car accident three years ago.

I gripped the wheel unnecessarily tight, but I managed to draw breath. The tension in my body increased as I braced for her to scowl, shout, and leave my car to await rescue from _anyone_ else. Yet, her expression seemed to be a mirror image of mine. Shock and uncertainty emanated from us both.

I had not laid eyes on Kathy since I originally left Kilkee six years ago. I did not attend the funeral of my friend because of my injuries, although I doubted that I would have been welcome. She had aged horribly since then. Her forehead was riddled with permanent creases, crow's-feet radiated from the corners of her eyes like river deltas, and similar lines traced their way from her mouth. She had developed jowls, and her eyes were worn and dim-looking. Her hair was a steely-grey colour that reflected little light. She could have been no more than fifty then, but she looked like a woman twenty years her senior.

I was still frozen to my seat as the long moment passed. Then, she frowned, and I thought that here it was, the initial shock had worn off. But her frown was not meant for me, it was self-directed, like she was admonishing herself for forgetting her manners.

She was soft-spoken, which made me feel guilt for my own impoliteness. "Hello, Jason. Thank you for stopping. I have been waiting there quite a while."

"Sure, sure. No problem Mrs. Reardon…would you like me to drive you home?" I asked shakily.

"Yes, if you wouldn't be minding. Hopefully, one of my sons can do something about the car."

I flinched, but she didn't seem to notice. I'd forgotten for a moment that she had two sons older than Fionn and Diarmuid, the latter being the elder brother who brought Fionn on that ill-fated joyride. I noticed she spoke very carefully to me but still with kindness. I sensed she was trying to spare my feelings and not say anything upsetting. I was grateful and tried to return the favour. I remained silent as we entered town. I noticed she looked at me a lot, mostly with sympathy and regret in her eyes. It was disconcerting but not at all what I expected, or deserved.

I pulled up outside her house and said genially, "Here you are, Mrs. Reardon. Is there…anything else I can do?" My friendly tone was overshadowed by my nerves.

She considered that a moment and replied, "No…thank you. I should be able to get this sorted."

I focused on the dash waiting for her to exit my car, so I could relax and breathe properly. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see she was debating whether or not to say something.

She inhaled deeply and spoke with trepidation rife in her tone. "Jason, I…notice that you're never in town since you've been back."

"Am…no, I…work a lot. I tend to stay in and relax on my off days."

"Do you consider the beach a relaxing spot in winter?" I was caught. Still, there was no sarcasm in her tone.

I replied honestly, "It can be. No one's around. There's just the sea air and the waves. It's nice to be alone with your thoughts sometimes."

"Huh, you seem to find plenty of opportunity to be alone here, whether it be on the shore or in your home. Yet, you travel three hours everyday to work in a busy petrol station in Shannon." She sounded very airy when she was saying all this.

I had no quick fib to explain away that one. I'd have to think too long, and that would give me away surely as any poorly crafted deception.

She watched my expression knowingly and continued, "You know you don't have to hide yourself away. No one blames you for what happened."

She surprised me, but I replied resignedly, "Thank you, Mrs. Reardon, but I doubt that many people share your sentiment."

"I think if you actually allowed yourself to see, you'd find more people are concerned for you than condemning you."

"Why would I concern them?"

"You may have been gone a long time, young man, but no one's forgotten you. You were such a happy, imaginative child. I'm glad that while he was alive, Fionn had you as a friend, even after you went away. He worried about you, you know. We all did. All he heard from you for those first three years was how terrible your life was in Galway, how you wanted to come home. I only wish your parents had been more considerate of your needs and those of your siblings. Perhaps, none of this would have happened."

It didn't surprise me that the locals had a poor opinion of my parents, especially my step-over-anyone mother. Yet, that thought quickly faded as the hollowness grew like an expanding air pocket. I didn't want her to be so compassionate, so nice. As irrational as it was, I wanted her to hate me, to blame me, as though I didn't receive tonnes of that on a regular basis anyways. Yet somehow, it might have been easier to accept her odium rather than the sympathy that caught in my throat, impossible to swallow.

I was sure she understood my discomfiture that was nearing dangerously close to a nervous breakdown. I didn't want to weep or go hysterical in front of her, so I kept a cap on it for later. It was hard hearing his name because that reminded me of that night and what I saw especially. His body broken and battered in that car, knowing exactly how each injury corresponded to an impact with some object or person. I knew he didn't suffer. His neck was snapped quickly, and the other injuries were largely post-mortem. I had drawn that particular wellspring of solace bone-dry in the last three years. The trickle left was barely holding me together.

Kathy continued, "Jason, would you consider coming over for dinner some time? Your family are welcome to join us. Perhaps this Sunday?"

I was stunned by her invitation, but it also heightened my apprehension. I replied nervously, "I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean what about your husband and your sons? Will it not make them uncomfortable?"

She sighed in a resigned way and answered, "Jason, I only wish my sons and husband were as close to Fionn as you were. I could draw more comfort from them if they shared my level of grief. Their sorrow is more for Diarmuid. You see, Fionn was a surprise to his father and I. We weren't planning on having anymore children. Plus, if you'll keep my confidence, I thought I wasn't able to have anymore, according to the doctors. So you see, they always saw Diarmuid as the youngest child…who got dethroned!" She smiled reminiscently and continued, "They never really connected with Fionn. They loved him but could never relate. Not me though; he was my little prince. And he had you. You were like inseparable twins when you both were younger. There's only a day between you, isn't there?"

I nodded a little perturbed by her use of the present tense. She mused for a few seconds, probably lost in the past.

She came back to the present with weary reluctance. "If I blame anyone, it's myself."

I favoured her with an incredulous expression that softened when I saw the sincerity in her countenance.

I could only ask questioningly, "Why?"

"Because I should have seen that the way my family was was the way it should have been. I shouldn't have meddled or forced anything. After you were gone, Fionn got almost as depressed as you. His other friends weren't around long either, and his brothers were so indifferent. You were down sometimes but only once a month at best, and there was all that in-between time when he just moped around and secluded himself. So, I got on their cases, his brothers, trying to get them to interact with him more. I was there as much as a mother could be, but he needed a friend, not to be mothered to death. In the end, I made Diarmuid take him out that evening to the teenage disco in the community centre, just so he could have the experience and have someone to hang out with. Diarmuid had me convinced that they were gonna stick around his best friend's house until the disco was on. I didn't even bother to call his friend's parents to check in. And so, because of Diarmuid's lack of consideration, he saw fit to bring his little brother out in a sports car in the worst weather of the year."

I was silent in contemplation. However, her admission did not ease my guilt. I felt as if I was shouldering her burden with her assumption that we understood each other's self-condemnation. She might have disagreed, but my guilt compared to hers was the difference between a shallow pond and a fathomless ocean. It ran so deep within her that it was killing her. I could see it in her willingness to let the poison take its course and end her pain.

Just the immensity of that agony that I glimpsed in her eyes was tipping me over the edge. I had not been in control of the situation that day. My presence in the wrong place at the wrong time, with my uncontrollable ability, had conspired to wreak tragedy and despair. She'd had a choice though, a choice whose outcome she could never have foreseen but still, it tore her apart inside. I could imagine the self-accusation, the questions in her mind: "What if I hadn't been so pushy?", "What if I'd badgered a different brother?" What ifs and maybes, a thousand variations of the same question, "What if I'd done things differently?"

It was painful even to imagine but just as if I'd been riding her train of thought, she snapped me out of it saying, "I think often about how things could have been different if I'd made different choices. It grates on me, eats me. My husband says I beat myself up too much…which makes me want to beat him."

We shared a short chuckle. She regarded me pleadingly then, "All I'm saying, Jason, is that you understand better than most how I feel, better than my own family. All I ask is that you make yourself less scarce from now on."

I smiled slightly and said, "Sunday so?"

The first proper smile I'd seen from her spread across her suddenly brightened face.

She nodded favourably and then, she had a moment of sudden remembrance. She said hurriedly, "Just wait one second."

She jumped out and ran inside her house. Barely five minutes later, she was back out to me carrying something in her hand. I rolled down my window, and she proffered it to me. I realised immediately what it was. I had analysed every facet, every atom of it that fateful day. It was the chain I'd given Fionn.

I immediately drew away from it like it was some venomous viper. She seemed to understand my wariness, well not so much wariness as an aversion. I couldn't even bear to hold that morbid thing, let alone keep it, as I suspected she was offering. How could I have a constant reminder of my best friend's death in my presence or worse, hanging from my neck? Oddly, my hand was cupped outside the window, and she let it dangle slowly into my palm. Part of me wanted to have it but that part of me pushed me over the edge.

My grief over what I'd felt I was responsible for, that I'd pent up for three years, all flowed out of me at once. Yet, I contained it enough that I only quivered slightly as my eyes moistened. I had the slight burning in my mind that fuelled the blackness enough that a tendril puffed out of my hand, enveloping the Scorpio chain.

Then, my mindset shifted, rearranged.

My memories of being here with my friend in my real home became more prominent, until each became crystal clear like millions of images in a single photo album, all of the utmost quality. I remembered each second clearly from the first to the last. Then, I had an epiphany, how pointless my mindset had been. All the hurt, the suffering, the loneliness of every moment I spent in Galway City melted away into irrelevance. Those memories were but the insidious weeds that overgrew a garden. They should not preoccupy me. They did not define me. I should live to the full, focus on the good things in life, and not dwell on past negatives. It did me no good in the present, and it would hinder every aspect of my future.

I smiled happily and speaking my thoughts aloud, and to Kathy, I said, "I suppose it would be what he'd want."

"It was your gift, Jason. You should have it. I hope it reminds you of the good times and not just the bad ones."

"I think that was the idea." She was confused by my answer, but the object had a strange quality to me. The blackness interpreted the mental wellbeing I gained from it as a final impression, a line of a will or, boiling the feeling down, just three words: don't grieve, live.

I beat myself up for entirely different reasons then.

Perhaps, some of my unhappiness was caused by the people around me, but the majority of it I inflicted upon myself. I punished myself as best I could by avoiding people, by reminding myself of the evil I could do. Sometimes that left me numb, so I beat up on myself some more until the feeling returned. I acted like the living dead, physically living but emotionally dying from my own reproof.

Fionn would never have wanted that. He would never have blamed me or believed I deserved this misery. It was a perspective I had never seen, or allowed myself to see. All he would have wanted for any of the people in his life would have been for them to go on with their lives, not to carry the black clouds of anguish and regret overhead forever. I turned to see a still bewildered but smiling Kathy, watching me intently as I did the same to the chain.

She asked hopefully, "Might I be right in saying that this has reminded you of better times?"

"It does, thank you for this. It must be hard to part with."

"I have many things of Fionn's that are important to me. This is the one that is most important to you. I feel a lot better giving you some peace and closure than holding onto another keepsake."

A memory flickered in my mind. Fionn was chiding me over giving him a chain, saying guys only gave jewellery to their girlfriends. Being as oversensitive as I was, I got offended. I thought it was a cool present. I would have worn it. He spent the next five minutes placating me before he put it on as a final peace offering. He admitted afterwards that it was cool with the realistically carved scorpion and the word Scorpio in bold capitals. He had just been ruffling my feathers as he sometimes liked to do because it was just so easy.

I'd been peeved but smug, noticing our other friends' presents held his interest for no more than a few days. He'd never tired of the chain. He'd died with it. Yet, this unearthly sensation made me feel that something of him had survived in this world beyond the memories of loved ones and friends. It was though he had transferred his greatest wish for us into the chain, in the moment of death, for someone to read. My sixth sense was a marvel that transcended this world, perhaps peering into the next, or perhaps there was a less magical explanation for the imprint of a thought on an inanimate object. Whatever the case, I knew that it had brought me some closure, some peace, some happiness at being able to hear Fionn, no matter how rudimentary the message was.

Then, I noticed a descending hum as the blackness pulled away. What I hadn't noticed was that the chain had been resonating with the caress of my extra sense, but it grew quieter until it was nothing but the chain it was moments before. No matter, I had heard Fionn's last will and testament, his last hope. Kathy reached out and closed my fingers around the chain.

She said, "Keep it safe, and keep it near. Perhaps it can bring you more than just release from your burden of guilt."

"That alone is more than enough."

"Well, I best be getting inside before I catch something. You should be on your way. Don't want to be in the situation you found me in, believe me."

"Yes, well, there'll only be physical warmth to greet me when I get home, but I guess that shouldn't bother me either."

"You're almost like another son to me, Jason; believe me when I say it's their loss."

I was speechless that she thought so highly of me, and I gulped a little, trying to swallow the euphoric wellbeing before it intoxicated me. I hadn't experienced happiness like this in six years. I thought of what she said and realised that she'd been more like a parent to me than my own mother. That saddened me more than it inspired anger. I hadn't realised how often I'd drawn comparisons or how I thought of mom and dad as just providers and Fionn's family as being mine, too. I had always known that my mom and dad should love me like Kathy loved her children, they just weren't capable of it. That was a big part of the reason why leaving Kilkee was so devastating, I was being ripped from them and taken far out of reach. This had reminded me that coming back should have reawakened me from my deadened state, not made me delve deeper into the abyss.

Kathy released her hand and said, "Thank you, Jason, it's nice to have you back."

"It's nice to be back. I got there eventually."

"Perhaps we'll run into each other before Sunday."

"Who knows, give my regards to Mr. Reardon."

"Hmm, I'm sure he'll at least grunt in acknowledgement." We shared a knowing grin.

"Thank you again," I said sincerely.

"Safe journey home."

I waved goodbye as I drove off into the night and towards my home. I clutched the chain tightly but in a brief glance, I caught something. The letters had been completely reformed into a totally dissimilar word, probably by the blackness. The strange shape the letters took, the protruding bold script with jointed ends was almost foreboding and yet, the word itself seemed so innocuous. It just read "_**Change**_".


	4. Chapter 4 The Change

4. THE CHANGE

I contemplated the meaning of the _change_ in the chain's inscription on the few minutes journey to my house. Change, if it was a good omen that things were going to change for the better, then why did I feel so perturbed? To me, it was a warning; it created a sense of dread. That was all I had, a sense that things were going to take a turn for the worse. _How much worse could they get? _I pulled up and made my way to the door slowly, all the while focusing on the chain. I sincerely hoped the scene that greeted me on entering was the worst of this change.

The stench of burning food and cigarette smoke irritated my nostrils and clung to my tongue, leaving a ghastly taste in my mouth. The smoke was drifting out through the sitting room door, which was open just a crack, to my right. I heard a commentator's overenthusiastic voice on the television set, so Kevin was probably glued to a soccer match. In his fixation, he had left something in the kitchen to burn the house down.

I ran straight past the staircase and thrust the kitchen door open before making a sharp left turn for the oven. Sure enough, as I opened it and the smoke cleared, there were the charcoal-like remnants of a pizza sitting on the top shelf. Oblivious to my intervention, Kevin hollered in delight in the next room. His team had probably scored. The flames would've had to have been licking at Kevin's extremities before he realised something was amiss. Shielding my hand with a tea towel, I yanked the tray out and cast the pizza's remains into the bin.

I was about to storm into the sitting room and have a fit at Kevin when something caught my notice. The porch lamp had switched on.

I froze stiff. That had never happened before.

We turned the light on ourselves if we had to go out into the backyard at night, but it would turn on itself _only_ if someone was out there. Had I been followed? Had I brought the murderers to my doorstep? I had to protect Chloe. No, I had to get her in the car and drive away from here. I heard the backdoor creak open. I was too late. They were coming inside. I clutched the baking tray tighter. It wouldn't make much of a weapon, but I was too petrified to move towards the knife holder.

I heard the click of a switch, and the porch light flickered off. I realised I hadn't turned on the kitchen light, and my only illumination was coming from the hallway at my back. _Stupid Kevin and his habit of switching lights off_. I heard unsteady, slow-paced footsteps creeping towards the kitchen door. Scared witless, I stared into the half-darkness and wished dearly that when I failed to stop them that they wouldn't hurt Chloe and that my death would be quick. I held no such hopes for Kevin.

This would have been a handy time for the blackness to rear its ugly but useful head. But I was not in pain, neither emotional nor physical. I wasn't angry or miserable, I didn't have a broken bone or a closed airway. How inconvenient, of all the emotions that did not summon the blackness, one of them had to be fear. It seemed when it came to the fight or flight response, only the urge to fight stirred up my ability. I wanted to fight, though. If it helped Chloe in any way, I would do that. But I was also afraid, so afraid that it was overpowering all of my other responses. I was in flight mode. I wanted to run. I wanted to take Chloe away. Yet, my feet were bolted solidly to the floor. The best I could do was raise the tray above my head in preparation for an assault.

Someone grasped the handle and pulled it down. My foot slipped forward as I prepared to spring. Finally, I felt some burning in my cranium, and the blackness emerged from my hands, enshrouding the tray, ignoring the tea towel, which hadn't protected my palms that well. It was as dark as obsidian and looked more solid. I got the impression that when I struck someone with the tray, it would hurt a lot more than it should. The door opened in a fast sweep, and I lurched forward, wielding the tray.

I stopped dead in my tracks. It was just dad.

I lowered the tray and, exasperated, said, "Dad! What the fuck is your problem? Why were sneaking in like that? You gave me a heart attack."

I regretted using that phrase immediately, but dad seemed not to notice. He wasn't in any condition to notice much. He was completely pale, almost blue. He'd gone out in the freezing cold for who knows how long in just slippers, tracksuit bottoms, a white t-shirt, and an open hoodie.

He shivered in uncontrollable bouts, and he was very wobbly. I was about to go to his aid when I noticed other things. His eyes were unfocused and dilated. His t-shirt had a yellowish, brown stain down the front, running from his neck to his waist. He smelled faintly of body odour, cigarettes, and what I guessed was curry. That delightful mix might have been stronger had it not been overpowered by the unmistakable odour of booze.

The blackness that had reinforced my unlikely weapon stretched out to meet him, following the line of sight of my enraged eyes. He, the person entrusted with my sister's well-being while she was sick, was drinking. I could not put my thoughts together. My utter disgust had them flying about my mind like a nest of angered hornets. The blackness prodded him tentatively for the moment, but I knew if I focused on one tendril hard enough, it could solidify into a spearhead and impale him. But I reined it in and cooled the blazing mind fire. I hated him so much in that instant that I could honestly say I didn't care if he killed himself this way. If he planned to remain a depressed alcoholic, only concerned with his own misery, then perhaps it was better this ended quickly for him.

I had a hold over my ability but not my temper. I roared at him. "Dad! I can't believe you're bloody drinking. Have you any consideration for anyone but yourself? You're supposed to be taking care of Chloe, and instead, you go get yourself completely plastered! She could be dead up there for all you know."

He replied in a confused stutter, "Wha-what's…wr-wrong with Chlo-e?"

The blackness demanded to be let at him, but I crushed it down with whatever I could. Morality was all I could really draw upon. I could find nothing else that would prevent me from committing grievous bodily harm. Dad was dead to the world; it wasn't hard to feel like he was to me, too. My tirade was enough to break the mesmeric hold the match had on Kevin.

He waltzed into the kitchen, looking all authoritative, and demanded, "What's going on here?"

"Dad's been drinking in the snow. Had you not noticed?"

He immediately went to support our dad as he leaned to the side at a dangerous angle. He criticized, "Jesus Christ, why haven't you helped him? He's in way past the deep end."

"His liver can turn to minced meat for all I care."

Kevin glowered at me and said aggressively, "Watch your mouth, you ungrateful little cunt, or I'll shut it for you. Help me get him to bed."

I stood there and grinned at him derisively. I did not feel threatened. I'd had a growth spurt in the last three years, and Kevin had little advantage over me. Plus, I had no qualms about using my ability if I so needed. His lips peeled back over his teeth, as he grew more infuriated. He was struggling to bear dad's dead weight as he drifted off. I swivelled round and made for the stairs.

He shouted after me, "Jason, get the fuck back here, now!"

"Make me."

He growled and snapped, "Why are you so bloody selfish? Dad's been through a lot. He needs us to support him."

I turned and took a few steps back. I replied darkly, "We've all been through a lot, Kevin. Some more than others, as in the people who've actually been here to live through it. I pick that man off the floor every morning, so he can work to keep a roof over our heads. Then, I work to make sure bills are paid, and food is on the table. Bloody hell, I'm not even seventeen, and this is what I have to deal with. Yet, I never complain, aloud anyways, and I do the best I can, and all I ask from him is to do the same. But that's too much most of the time. I should've known better than to ask him to take care of Chloe. He can't do that much for himself."

Dad heard none of this as he hung limply in Kevin's arms.

A little less antagonistic, Kevin said, "Jason, he's taking mom's death really hard. You can't blame him for feeling this way."

"It's not what he feels; it's what he does about it."

"You still can't really blame him."

"Yes, I can. But you know what, I've way, way too much blame to spread around, so let's just keep it to the here and now." I eyed my unconscious father and said in mock admonishment, "Dad, you're a drunkard. You've probably left my sick little sister unattended for hours and for that, I'll never forgive you." Then, I glared at Kevin and said more scathingly, "Kevin, you are a self-centred, self-righteous prat. In fact, you're so engrossed in your own needs that you left Chloe, your baby sister, in the freezing cold all night and made her ill. I hope that makes you so _proud_ as a brother. Just so you know, if your ignorance harms her again, I'll break you."

I turned away from his flustered expression and took the stairs in leaps and bounds but stopped near the middle to add, "Oh, and if you plan to cook here, try not to turn the house into a pyre."

Chloe was okay, it turned out, to my relief. Her temperature was still high, and she coughed occasionally, but otherwise, she slept soundly. I dabbed her forehead with a wet cloth and pulled her quilt down away from her roasting face. She did not stir. She was exhausted but still muttered in her sleep, nothing coherent. I hoped her fatigue hadn't trapped her in a night terror. Downstairs, I heard Kevin lob dad onto the sitting room sofa. I thought he might confront me, but he stayed put. I might have grinned at that, but I was so weary, and it had been such a long day. I decided I'd turn in.

I fell into bed, only switching my jeans for pyjama bottoms and removing my work shirt. The house was balmy compared to the blizzard outside, but it was still too cold to go to bed without some insulation. I stretched out under the quilt, laying flat on my back. I blinked only a few times before I dozed off.

Almost immediately, I was in a dream . It was far more vivid than my usual imaginings. I was in a meadow. At my back was the slope of a hill. In front of me was a stand of trees. The details were so realistic that I felt I had been transported to this place rather than just dreamt it.

The grass was high, almost to my chest, and intermingled amongst it was an assortment of fragrant wildflowers. Daises, buttercups, dandelions, and milk thistle danced in a gentle summer's breeze along with blander species like dog leaves and nettles. White and red clover peeked from beneath the towering grass blades, and rushes sprung from where the ground was marshiest. The trees were a line of scraggly, gnarled pines that twisted and weaved amongst each other as they were choked by briars and ivy. The sky was overcast despite the mild air, but I could tell it was midday because of the brightness that diffused through the clouds.

Yet, beyond the nearest trees, I could make out nothing but a dense fog. It reminded me of tales of mystical forests of enchantment and fantasy. Yet, I knew this forest, with its horrifically deformed trees and invisible depths, was no place of wonder but of terror.

As if to confirm my wary suspicion, I saw the outline of several forms moving towards me. I soon realised that they were human, but I also noted that they moved far too quickly and seemed to glide over the earth rather than step upon it. I observed that they wore hooded black cloaks, their faces obscured. There were four of them, and they phased through the thick grass as though it were less substantial than air.

I felt threatened by them but instead of running, I crouched and prepared to defend myself. I felt a presence at my back, but it did not arouse fear but protectiveness. I could not turn to see who or what I was protecting, but I knew these hooded characters were a threat to it, and so, I bared my teeth and growled deeply. They seemed unimpressed, unmoved by my provocation. Then, they were not alone. Three more figures were drifting through the misty forest. They did not wear hoods, and the middle one seemed to be dressed in a suit with archaic elements. I braced to see the faces of my adversaries. The fog thinned. I could see pale skin and ruby eyes. They watched me with malevolent glee as though my murder would be good sport. I saw the hooded figures take one step forth, and I pounced upon the nearest one. By the end of the dream, they were all upon me, but that was where it concluded.

I awoke to a very real horror.

I leapt up off my pillow, but something forced me back down. I felt pain to make a stab wound feel like the prick of a pin. Then, my body spasmed and heaved, rendering my limbs useless. I wanted to jerk away from the source of my agony, but I couldn't even determine where it was coming from. It felt like my whole body was burning from the inside out. My first thought was that something had happened to trigger my ability, I was in pain, and this was a reactive response. Then, I managed to force my eyes open.

I was not alone.

There was someone right at my side. No, there were two. The light was too dim for me to make out the furthest one, but the nearest was illuminated by the faint light coming through my window. His hair was pitch black as coal, and his build was slender but not scrawny either. His skin was pallid, but it seemed that under that there was a slightly olive tone. His eyes, reminiscent of my dream, were ruby red and focused upon me sadistically.

He was very near. At first, I was in too much pain to comprehend what he was doing, but then I realised he was _biting_ me. My whole body felt on fire, and I could feel blood rushing towards the wound. Over the course of the next few minutes, he would bite and then stop. Ironically, when he stopped, the pain I felt became indescribably worse. I could deal with the slicing of his seemingly metallic canines, but the sensation that followed was unbearable. It was like corrosive acid had been injected into my veins, and was liquefying my insides, turning them to steaming mush. I screamed and shouted until my throat was raw, but the pain just grew and spread. Then, the other figure stepped towards the foot of my bed.

The light that filtered in caught the side of his face. I screeched murderously. "_Danny!_"

He smirked and replied, "Jason, I told you I'd let you live only a little longer."

Before I could utter another word, he brought his fist to bear upon my left knee. His arm moved so fast that I didn't even see a blur, in one moment he was standing smugly before me and in the next, his fist had crushed my knee. I screamed out until my lungs shrunk inward from the exhalation. My diaphragm stretched against my ribs before I choked in a few shallow breaths. I caught a glimpse of my knee. He'd hit it hard enough that the whole joint was angled inward. My screams and cries became weaker as dizziness crept in, and a haze filled my vision. I must have lost a lot of blood through the bite wound, but it seemed so tiny.

Then, another massive jolt ripped through my body as Danny smashed in my other knee. I felt myself weakening, and I couldn't draw enough air or strength to scream. I could only manage a ceaseless moan. Danny moved to my left side and knelt down, until his icy breath was brushing over my face. He extended one hand over my chest, and with one finger, he pushed downward upon my ribs. I heard a sickening crack and inhaled sharply through gritting teeth. He repeated that action at least six times before disorientation overcame me, and I was too out of it to sense the true agony that I was in.

I wondered why my ability hadn't kicked in. I certainly was in enough pain. I was _definitely_ angry enough. Yet, I sensed only the raging inferno coursing my veins. Perhaps, this unfathomable sensation was masking it. Danny leaned in nearer my throat and bared his teeth.

He whispered to me, "I bet you feel weak, but my friend Julian here has only taken about a pint of your blood."

It was arduous, but I turned my head, so my eyes looked into his. They seemed to be an even brighter red than earlier. I tried to pull my face into a disgusted grimace, but my facial muscles were twitching with the fire in my bloodstream.

He continued with a malicious smile. "You still have a lot in you, though. I can tell. It's so exhilarating to see the blood pumping just under that paper-thin skin of yours. Being that I'm new to this life, it's very hard not to drain you dry. If I wasn't already so well fed, then it would be quite impossible for me not to rip your throat out. Still…" His grin widened before he finished. "…what's the point of making a meal out of you without savouring it?" His expression hardened, and he continued. "You're going to suffer, Jason, worse than you've ever known. If I let the venom that Julian pumped into you run its course, then, in a few days, you would become one of us. I couldn't have that, though. The thought of having you around for all eternity sickens me. So, while your body is still frail and human, I intend to make you beg for my mercy, and that will come when I drink every last drop of your blood, sustaining me, making me stronger, so I can take more life. Your family for instance."

I regarded him as the blackness finally erupted out of my mind. I wanted to direct it outward like a wall. I would shield myself, and then I would use all my strength to rip him and his friend limb from limb.

I noticed in that moment that there was a subtle difference between my mind fire and the burning "venom" of Julian's; the venom really was a physical presence in my body. Without me willing it, the blackness reached within my own body and searched out the very essence of this poison, the most basic unit of its existence, the molecule. I dived deep to the cellular level, transcending tissues, nerves, and capillaries until I found what I sought.

It was a strange complex, reminiscent of a snowflake, but a thousand times more intricate. I observed it breaching my cells and catalysing more reactions than I could keep track of. I noticed the two most significant alterations it made, though. I was getting extra chromosomes, four more to be exact, the affected cells held a compliment of twenty-five pairs. I knew what that meant; I was changing at a fundamental level into something other than human. If that weren't unsettling in itself, then the new instructions these chromosomes gave my cells definitely had me in the grip of abstract terror.

I watched as DNA and RNA worked in sync to create new proteins that slowly replaced my natural tissues. These molecules were bulky, rigid things that froze all the components of each cell in place. They formed a lattice that stretched out between each cell creating an almost endless, solid polymer of petrified, rock-hard flesh. This material was sturdy, durable, _cold_. I began to fear that Danny spoke the truth, that I was becoming something like him, whatever that might be.

I suddenly snapped back to my level of reality with the explosion of pain from my crushed hands. Danny had taken them in his and squeezed. Then, he rubbed his fingers together with my broken flesh between. I whimpered as he ground my bones and tore the muscle and sinew.

He continued to taunt me. "It's a shame really that I have to kill you. Our coven would become so powerful with an ability such as yours, one that could only become stronger if you became one us. Alas, it can't be so. I know I'd be your first target. Am I wrong?"

I wished I could speak, or spit at him, I could only affirm his assumption with the glare of loathing with which I fixed him.

He smirked once more and continued. "I guessed as much. Well, that aside, there is my own prejudice. I really do dislike you, and that's the only reason there's still a millilitre of blood left in you. If you begged, I might consider ending your suffering. An apology for all the grief you've given me might convince me to let Julian share. It would go a lot quicker that way. How about it?' Are you ready to beg me? To say _sorry_?"

The questions were goading, mocking. Still, I couldn't tell if it would give him more satisfaction to see me struggle to plead with him or to watch my suffering with every bone he broke.

My eyes narrowed but that was the most complex expression I could make without my face convulsing. He placed a hand on either side of my pelvis and pressed it inward, snapping it in two. I reeled in pain but only momentarily.

The blackness drew me back within myself. It coursed through every vessel in my body. It sought the greatest concentrations of the venom in my throat, head, and chest. Upon coming across a venom molecule, the blackness broke into hooked microfilaments that towed it along. Eventually, the blackness had gathered them all and through various pathways, they flowed towards my chest cavity.

I was confused. Why was the blackness doing this? Why wouldn't it help me? Why was it preventing me from saving my own life? The venom molecules were herded together into a massive globule in my vena cava, the main entryway to my heart. The blackness spread around it, encompassing it in a tight skin. Then, without a fraction of a second's notice, the blackness shot south, straight into my heart. The venom filled the cavities of the embattled organ and intermixed with venial blood before riding the cascades of crimson with each defiant heartbeat.

As it circulated within moments, I heaved and arched my body, straining against my broken ribs and limbs. I roared and bellowed as my own ability helped speed the transformation. As each molecule of venom bound to a cell and carried out its activities, the blackness would scoop it up the microsecond it finished and deliver it to a new substrate. My tissues hardened, strengthened, and adhered to my bones as they themselves became denser. My organs petrified. My skin set solid.

Then, my world began to change.

My primary senses of sight, smell, and hearing began to fluctuate wildly. They were dulled before, drowned out by my pain, but then they spiked above and beyond anything I thought possible. Without the aid of my sixth sense, I observed the most infinitesimal of dust particles drifting aimlessly in the air. I saw the tiny inconsistencies in the ceiling paint. I could discern every thin filament of a spider's web suspended in the far corner of the ceiling. For sure, the detail I was seeing with these new eyes was nowhere near as exquisitely minute as was achievable with my ability, but it was remarkable in its own way.

Then, the smells struck me. My own blood, staining my bed linen, was rusty and salty but could not cover the intense, fresh smell of newly washed sheets. I could smell traces of my deodorant in the air, the odour of unwashed clothes from a basket in the corner, a strong whiff of petrol from my work shirt.

Sounds began reverberating in my ears as though their sources were mere feet away. Despite the whining of the blizzard outside, that had become as loud as an oncoming train, my ears automatically selected out less perceptible noises. Tiny footsteps, and a nibbling sound from the attic above me, revealed an uninvited squatter in my home, probably a rodent of some sort. I could hear the echoes of dripping water from both the bathroom and kitchen taps and the constant, uneven burring of the fridge motor.

Then, a paradox occurred to me. I could hear the heartbeats of three other people, and of course, the rodent invader, but I could hear the distinct breathing of seven. I quickly ascertained that Danny and Julian did not have beating hearts, and that meant there were two more of his _kind_ in my home. This surge of swift change and overload of information had occurred in a few brief seconds, and yet, my mind seemed perfectly capable of processing it all.

Diving back within myself, I realised the blackness had become more efficient at spreading the venom. The changes were happening at a nanosecond pace. All the while, the agony of the infernal acid racing through me so quickly had become unendurable. Well, surely it had to be. It was hard to imagine a human body perceiving this much pain, even for a moment, and still surviving. I had seized up too much to roar or even breathe, but my heart was kept beating mechanically by the blackness.

Then, pop…and again…and finally my airways opened, and I found my voice.  
My ribs and knees were shifting under my skin and slotted back into place. I let out such a tumultuous howl that even Danny and Julian were taken aback. Danny wrinkled his nose as he stood over me and then gave a hiss that sounded surprised. His eyes opened wide, and Julian looked equally astounded.

For the first time, Julian spoke in a rich, Italian accent. "How is this possible?"

Danny asked accusingly, "What did you do?"

"I did nothing, the boy just changes so quickly."

Danny drooped his shoulders disappointedly and gave me a resigned look. "Well Jason, even through the change you freakishly defy the norm. At this rate, you could be one of us in minutes. Ah shucks, and I was planning to have such fun over the next few hours. I guess I'll have to be merciful after all."

His open hand lunged towards my throat at a lightning pace but…he missed. No, I replayed that millisecond moment, he was deflected.

The blackness had enveloped every square inch of me, inside and out. The pain was rapidly dissipating in my extremities, and I found I could move my fingers and toes. The venom was coursing inward as capillaries, arteries, and veins closed behind it. It rode a tidal wave of the blackness that dragged it along to that last vital point that had been key to this expedited change, my heart. It thumped against my solid chest almost frantically, as though it were trying to burst out and escape. Then, feeling like it would fail at any moment, the venom coated the outer surface of the frenetic organ, and immediately, it was soothed. Its beats grew longer and less frequent until, with one last resounding thump, it crystallised and stopped.

I inhaled breath, but there was no sense of relief. I found my body completely mobile and the pain dissipating fast. My throat was desiccated, like I'd swallowed burning-hot Saharan sand. I attributed this, at first, to some residual rawness from my screams of pain. For an endless moment, I was unaware of the world outside, I could only search this new body, dumbfounded by what I'd become.

My airways were still open, but my lungs were as rigid as unopened oysters. The rest of my body felt like a solid block full of only the most miniscule of pores. They were so tiny that you'd need a microscope to view them, well, anyone else would. I wondered what their purpose was. My senses were powerful beyond belief, and my mind seemed to have increased in capacity, like I could think of so many distinct things at once, solve problems and memorise more quickly. That of course meant a roomier vessel for the blackness. It flexed and writhed in my new mind. It drew upon my more fervent emotions that raged like a whole forest fire within my skull.

Then, like an expanding bubble, the blackness burst forth. Its scope and power seemed to have increased a hundredfold. I understood the most basic structures of everything within my room.

I knew best how to destroy them.

Yet, my emotional control was slipping, and the rage that built inside for all he had done prevented me from making calculated, precise moves. So, as they both thrashed at me futilely, trying to destroy me before it was too late, I became alert and animated and eyed Danny wildly. He froze in fright. Then, his jaw dropped. I formed a wall between us and pushed him with it with as much force as I could muster. I sent him flailing out my window and thrust him as far as I could, until I heard a distant crash. He wasn't dead, but he was at least several hundred feet away.

I rose from my bed, locking eyes with Julian. He tried to turn away, but the tendrils of blackness had already enveloped him. I brought my legs out over the edge of my bed and then stood before him. Then, raising my hand, the black tendrils weaved out from my fingertips to completely cocoon him. I drew my arm back and with a quick forward thrust, I threw him through my door, knocking it clean off its hinges.

The blackness had me.

I was irate beyond restraint, but I did not howl and bellow with my madness. Like my new body, I was icy and fluid as the anger coursed out of me, taking a physical toll upon everything near. My bed flicked back against the window frame. My cupboard and desk exploded into splinters. My clothes and books floated for mere moments before being sheared and shredded. Then, I stepped forward, and the wall and doorframe ballooned away before snapping under the pressure. The pieces were cast in every direction.

I glided towards the stairs and as I went, the railing rippled like ribbon in the wind and fell to the hall below. Pictures that hung along the staircase shattered into shards of glass, tufts of pulverised paper, and splinters of wood that all bounced harmlessly off my iron skin. I was but a few steps from the bottom when I finally halted my parade of destruction.

Julian stood before me in complete terror.

A woman stood not far behind. Her look was entirely disarming. She had a thin, dainty frame and was very small. Her wild, shortish hair was hazel against skin that was of almost the same tone as Julian's. Her facial features were mostly petite like her body, but her cheeks were a little fuller than was proportional. The only thing about her that might give away her more sinister nature would have been those bright red eyes that seemed a much more brilliant shade than that of blood.

Another woman shot out of the sitting room and stood at their side. It was the mesmerising blonde lady from the petrol station, Sophia. The small woman eyed me with a scrutinising grin, but Sophia fixed me with the same icy gaze as before, though it didn't have the same effect. She growled lowly, but my instinctive response was a vicious snarl like that of a lion whose den had been invaded. Her eyes betrayed shock, but her body remained still.

Then, an intoxicating aroma blossomed in my airways. The scent was incredibly alluring, and I was drawn back to the blistering ache in my throat. Whatever that sweet smell was, I craved it, I wanted to taste it. Then, sounds filtered into my mind through my blinding fury and this terrible "hunger", the closest comparison I could think of. From upstairs, I heard gibbering broken by sobs and whimpers. I heard floorboards creak as a small body quivered against them. I heard ragged breathing and a racing heartbeat. Then, it occurred to me, I could only hear one heartbeat. _Dad! Kevin!_ I descended down two more steps, and the others backed away toward the open front door.

Then, I saw them.

Kevin was sprawled across an armchair. His skin was as pale as the snow outside, and his half closed-eyes were empty. I saw two separate bite marks on his throat with a little blood trickling down his neck. It was then I realised that this was the irresistible odour I'd smelt. From this angle, I could only see dad's head and arm dangling over the edge of the sofa. His eyes were shut, and his skin still bore some colour. Then, I saw the back and side of his neck ripped out and the blood oozing everywhere. The smell of the alcohol that laced it was revolting but even so, the odour of all that blood was overpowering. I realised that they'd either not finished with my dad or found him unappetising.

My lips trembled. My eyes strained against the reality of what I was seeing, as though trying to find the edges of some illusion or mask. My hands shook, and my fingers clenched into fists. Then, my lip curled up, I huffed and heaved air into my lungs, and when they were full, I let out a deafening roar with all my newfound strength. The blackness radiated out like beams of light until the straight rays bent and clawed at whatever they touched. I caught Julian by his right leg as he turned. He fell flat and dragged his fingers along the ground, ripping up huge chunks of carpet.

The smallish woman leapt to grab him, but Sophia hollered at her, "_No, Carina!_"

The claws reached for them, but Sophia looked at me with that frosty expression, holding a frantic Carina very close. I felt a strange presence around them, a field of sorts like a wall of energy. I lashed against it with the blackness, but it only rippled like wind whipping water. Sophia was focusing very hard then, and Carina still writhed in her grip as Julian slipped closer to me. She struggled as I beat down on this strange protective aura that she emanated. Julian was before me, and his red eyes looked into mine pleadingly.

I scoffed at the idea of showing this parasite, this demon, mercy. I said scornfully, "Who's begging now?"

I diminished the blackness into its most miniscule form, the infiltrating filaments that found the smallest of holes, the tightest of cracks, any microscopic entryway and flooded into it. I broke through the skin easily and felt my way into pores that were too puny to cause any physical weakness, but my ability was beyond the physical. I filled each pore beyond capacity finding my way to his very core, his stone-cold heart, his lungs like hardened clay…the weakest link of them all. With a single thought, I pressed outward.

The pressure built as the pores widened and joined into larger and larger cavities. Then, the expansion became too much, and cracks tore blisters that rose from his skin. He looked pockmarked like the surface of the Moon. Then, his fingers disintegrated, and his arms split along his wrists. His ankles buckled as his remnant feet loosened from his legs. Carina screamed in horror as her partner, I guessed, fell to pieces before her. Sophia would not relent, holding her steadfastly.

Julian shouted bloody murder and screamed with each inch of his body that just dematerialised and descended to the ground as a powdery dust. Then, his chest ballooned, and his back popped outward. His voice and breath were choked off, and his eyes rolled in their sockets as his neck swelled, as well. There was a single sharp crack that resounded in a gut-wrenching silence before Julian's torso fell apart like a falling statue. Carina shrieked as his head split to pieces upon the floor. She screeched louder as the heat I expelled ignited his crumbling remnants.

Sophia had to struggle with her. Suddenly, I felt a surge of force bolting from her eyes in my direction. I stumbled back, but the blackness held it from my body. I could not reach around her shield, but something told me she had an ability not unlike mine. Yet, it was clear whose was the most powerful. I pushed back, the blackness versus this invisible force. Perhaps, she could see her ability like some kind of extension of herself, too, but all I could do was sense its presence. It was enough. I rammed her with all the force I could, and her energy reflected back upon her. Sophia and Carina were launched wide of my garden, and into a field across the road. I heard Danny move to their side. Carina's thrashing was audible, even above her wretched wails.

I heard Danny mutter, "Let me in. He can't stop me."

"Yes, he can. You can't beat him. Not now. Trust me, I know."

"We can't let him live in this form. He's too dangerous to us."

Once again, she simply answered, "Patience."

I found myself growling once more, and I walked to the doorway. Across the way, I could just see their upper bodies above the ditch. Danny was emitting a deep, rumbling growl through his teeth. Sophia regarded me icily, as always. Carina did not meet my gaze. She yowled despairingly as her body went limp. She bent her knees, clearly wanting to curl into a ball and die, but Danny and Sophia held her up by her arms. Sophia glanced at him just once and in a split second, he'd scooped up Carina, and they raced off into the snow-white night.

Their speed was tremendous. I could tell they were covering hundreds of meters in seconds as their rhythmic footsteps became more distant. I knew enough of this body's strength to know I could chase them, I could even outpace them, and when I did…but, I was distracted.

A whiff of something divinely sweet filled my nostrils. It wasn't my dad's vodka-laden blood or the remaining trickle of Kevin's that smelled so much better, this was something more enticing again, more _pure_. I heard footsteps on the stairs that were very gentle but well within my range of hearing. My body tensed as my mind conjured up possibilities like maybe there was more of them, or perhaps they'd doubled back. I loosened my body slightly and pivoted upon one foot, bringing the other one down as I swivelled round completely. I crouched and prepared to pounce on my would-be assailant.

Chloe squealed in fright.

I soon realised it was her I had smelt. That sweet, almost floral odour was her natural scent, but it did not compare to the sight of her vital blood flow, the sound of her beating heart. I watched the blood coursing through veins, arteries, and capillaries just beneath her skin. That skin, so thin, her body was so frail compared to mine. It would be so easy, and I could make it so quick. I was so thirsty and…_NO!_ I yelled in my mind, overriding this seemingly instinctual compulsion.

I felt so sick, so disgusted that I would have such thoughts about my little sister, such depraved, violent thoughts. Yet, the impulse to feed upon her was strong. I was holding it back but only just barely. She stayed where she was while I battled with myself. I was thankful, because if she got any closer, I'd surely fail. I darted away from her towards the sitting room and closed the door. The distance was such a relief, and I didn't want her to see Kevin or Dad. Despite my separation, my arms were tremulous as they reached out to her against my will. I was so grateful that she was too afraid to move.

She spoke to me in a quivering voice. "Jason, what's happened? Who were those people?"

She'd seen them. I was pretty sure that throughout the whole ordeal, she'd hidden in her closet.

I replied with a similarly shaky voice, "I don't know, they're gone now. You're safe." _Yeah right_, I thought.

Chloe stood and seemed to scrutinise me. She asked, "What did they do to you? Your skin, your eyes, your voice even sounds different."

I hadn't noticed, but my voice did sound higher like an alto singer's, more even and fluid, too, despite my quavering. Danny said I could become one of them, and I denied it to myself, despite my obvious transformation, for the sake of my sanity. I supposed he was right, my voice even sounded like his. I tried to distract myself from that thought, but my thirst for blood was preying on my moments of weakness.

I asked Chloe, trying to contain my panic, "Did you see them, too, Chloe?"

"Yes, he came into my room."

My anger boiled over, and the shaking stopped, replaced by tension so great I thought I would fracture into pieces.

I asked her, as calmly as I could manage, "What did he do?"

"He…he pulled me out of the cupboard, and then, he took my hand…he blocked my mouth, so I wouldn't scream for you. He told me they were about to leave and that after they were gone, I had to come down to you."

"Why?"

"I dunno…but he cut my palm with his nail. Look…"

I held my breath, knowing I wouldn't be able to smell if I didn't breathe. I hadn't noticed the cut because she'd pressed her hand against her nightdress. Now, though, I could see it was deep and would probably need stitches. It still bled profusely, and I dearly wished I could help her. How had I not heard him? In my rage over dad and Kevin, I must not have heard him as he slipped in her bedroom window, hurt her, and jumped back out in time to meet his "coven" as I hurled them out my door. His purpose was clear, though. He wanted me to be unable to resist, he wanted me kill her because he knew that would destroy me. I held very still but holding my breath was oddly easy. Did I even need to breathe anymore? Even at that, the inability to smell was getting uncomfortable. Chloe took the last few steps of the stairs and stood mere feet away from me.

She held out her hand and said, "Can you do something for it?"

I watched a bead of blood grow just inside her thumb and drop to the floor, making an echoing plop that made my body lurch forward involuntarily. I was within an arm's length of her. She looked up at me hopefully. I thought I should be crying with my own failure to protect her from myself, but no tears came. Perhaps crying was another thing this stony body didn't do. I was failing. Her blood was just too tempting, and I had to feed. Some part of me was still disgusted by the idea that I wanted to drink blood, but that was a human aversion negated by my new instincts. If it were anyone else, I would have already given in, but I wouldn't be responsible for hurting my sister.

I stared at the ground and took enough breath to speak. "Chloe…when I go…you need to call the Gardaí and…and call Mrs. Reardon to come take care of you."

"What? Wait, Jason, don't go."

"No choice, promise me."

"Jason, please."

"Promise me!" I shouted through my sobs.

She relented through tears of her own and nodded affirmatively. She asked, "Why are you going?"

"Not safe. Tell the Gardaí that we were broken into, tell them to look inside the sitting room."

"…O-kay."

"Good. I love you, Chloe-bear."

"I love you, big brother."

"…And Chloe?"

"Yes?"

"Promise me you won't go in there." She probably already guessed that something had happened to Kevin and Dad, but she didn't need to see it.

She nodded. "Okay, but…but I won't be safe if you go. I need to understand…"

"Yes, you will. There's no time to explain now. Just do what I say and when I can, I'll be back."

"But…I don't want you to…"

She reached for me but before she laid a finger upon me, I ran. I moved as fast as my legs would carry me, knocking our painted iron gate from its hinges and blasting through the ditch before zipping through the fields.

She yelled after me, "_Jason, no_! Come back! Please…please come back…" Her words dissolved into her whimpers as the distance between us widened.

As the kilometres fell behind me, her voice faded, but that did not quiet me. I was still starving for something that meant taking a person's life. No one deserved that. No one should die to sustain me, though Danny and his coven didn't seem to have a problem with it. I would not do it. I refused to be like them. I kept running east, traversing farmland, copses, and roads but avoiding homes and villages that were far too tempting. My strides were wide and forceful, but they left only the slightest impression upon the fallen snow. The blizzard still pummelled me, but I could not feel cold or perceive the temperature very well at all. How bizarre, considering how much better my senses had become.

Then, as I neared Ennis, I came across a distinct trail. Definitely not human and there were three of them heading south-east in the direction of Limerick. It was Danny's coven, I knew it. They'd been careless. I couldn't let them go on living and killing others. They'd destroyed my family and turned me into something vile and dangerous, like themselves. I would seek them out and make them pay. I followed the trail for many miles and the scent grew stronger, but as I neared Shannon, the blizzard grew more intense. Massive snowdrifts were shifting with the wind and burying the world beneath a freezing blanket. They had distorted the scent, scattered it. I could no longer trace them.

I was about to vent my frustration when I realised how close I was to a human house. It was an isolated country residence not far from Shannon. In fact, I passed it everyday on my way to work. I was still a quarter of a kilometre away, but I could make out details that no human possibly could from this distance. The lights were all out but off in the distance, I could see the same was true of every house and building as far as town and beyond. There were no street lights either. There'd been a power-cut.

In the window and through the haze of snow, I could make out a woman trying to light candles with a faulty gas lighter. The sparks it made were as clear as day before the candle lit, flashing brightly enough to make me squint. That single flame was enough for me to make out that the woman was brunette, brown-eyed, and pale-skinned. She looked to be in her early thirties. A man of similar age sat nearby, but he was a redhead with greenish-grey eyes, and a stubbly face. Their lips moved and from this distance, I could still hear their words over the howling wind.

The woman spoke through shivers. "This is ridiculous. A night like this and we've to go without heating."

The man replied, "I'm sure they'll fix it in short order."

"They better, or I'm filing a complaint."

"They can't do anything about the weather."

Ignoring him, she continued her rant. "This country is going to shit. We should move somewhere warm, like Spain."

"Ah, honey, Spain's unemployment rate is higher than ours, and it's snowing there, too."

"Oh, be quiet, Brian, my anger is keeping me warm. Stop interrupting."

"Okay, okay…"

"Ah, now you've gone and distracted me."

She sat with a thud on a chair opposite her husband. I could tell they were married from the glint of her gold band in the candlelight, and the way they behaved with each other. He came round the table to her and rubbed her arms gently. She frowned for a few more minutes before a small smile crossed her lips.

She relented, saying, "Thank you."

"Will I bring you down a blanket from the bedroom?"

"Please, check the girls, too, and make sure they're all right."

The man moved upstairs, and I could just make him out through the window blinds in a hallway adjacent to the upstairs bedroom. He peeked in to two other rooms before tip-toeing to the larger bedroom nearest me and then left, dragging a king-sized duvet behind him. They huddled together under the quilt, giggling for some reason, and moved into their sitting room. They both plopped down on the sofa, and the wife cuddled into her husband's side as he threw his arm around her shoulders.

The man sighed and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, honey, but I just remembered I left all the car doors unlocked."

"Isn't the laptop still in the car?"

"Ahuh…"

"Well, go get it. You've such a bad habit of doing that."

"I'm sorry, honey."

"Don't do it again, or else." Her tone was playful, and he smirked.

He trotted to the front door and on opening it, he was hit by a gust of wind and enough snow to build a snowman. He hesitated for a second but quickly grabbed a heavy jacket from the coat rack and made his way onto his drive. The snow was calf-deep, and he had to fight the crosswind to make it to his white Mazda.

Then, suddenly I was much closer.

The blizzard had carried his odour, and all the odours from within his house, towards me, and I reeled as they wafted up my nostrils and into my airways. I'd covered the short distance between us, skipping over hedges and his garden wall without even thinking. I was just twenty feet away. A blink of an eye would be an eternity compared to how quickly I could cover that distance. He hadn't heard or seen me yet. This would be too easy. I could snatch him up and carry him miles from here before feeding on him. No one would have to see anything. No one would guess what happened. This time my instincts were prevailing. Morality was slowly being boxed into the back of my mind as I watched my prey struggle to reach his car door.

Five feet. I was right behind him, trembling as my hands reached out toward him like claws. He'd just pulled the driver's side door open and was leaning in to grasp the laptop bag. I wanted to make some kind of noise to alert him, all the good that would do, but my breathing was as silent as my approach. I felt the urge to pounce, my arms spread wide to pick him up and make him disappear like all those other people. My arms drew closer. My fingers prepared to clasp him. My teeth were bared. My throat throbbed in anticipation of the meal to come.

Then, an unexpected burst of light flashed from my right, and a high-pitched scream pierced my ears. His wife had come to see what was taking so long. I was so caught up in my hunger that it drowned out my senses, focusing me upon a singular goal. Her husband was on his feet and spun around. I was frozen. What to do now? I could kill them both I supposed, such a large meal would suppress my hunger for longer. I wondered if I could carry such a load and guessed that it was probable. Still, I was unmoving. My moral centre was still stubbornly holding on to my self-control by one last thread like a spider dangling precariously from its silky lifeline.

The wife screamed, "Brian! Do something! The girls."

She had obviously assumed I must be the stealthy Galway murderer dubbed by the newspapers as "The Spectre". Her husband, being bigger and older than me, had examined me fleetingly and surmised that he could easily take me. How wrong he was. As soon as he tried to grapple me and pin me to the ground, I already had a hand around his throat. He stared at me in fear and disbelief as I easily lifted him off the ground. He struggled to breathe and to loosen my grip.

His wife cried, "Please! I'm begging you. We'll give you whatever you want. Just please don't hurt him."

Without looking her way or even thinking, I replied, "You can't give me what I want. Unless you're willing to die."

She wailed and said, "Yes! Yes, do what you want to us, but please don't hurt our children."

Then, a softer, calmer voice spoke from the top of their stairs. "Mommy, what's going on down there?"

"Ah, nothing sweetie. Please go back to bed."

"But Haley can't sleep with the noise, and she's crying 'cause she said she saw a bogeyman out the window."

"It was just a bad dream, Marie. Tell your sister I'll be up in a few minutes."

I could see her then. A little girl with auburn hair and big green eyes who couldn't have been much older than Chloe.

Chloe, I hoped she'd be okay. She'd be on her own from here on out.

I felt like something had caught in my throat. My breathing accelerated as the woman pleaded with her daughter to go back to bed. Suddenly, the burning thirst meant nothing. I heard the cries of the younger sister upstairs. She'd seen me and thought I was a bogeyman, a _monster_. From the second this life had taken hold, I wanted to deny its nature, and yet here I was, choking the life out of the girl's father and proving her right. The older sister was refusing to co-operate and was moving downstairs to see what was going on. I dropped the man in a heap and ran as fast as my new legs would carry me. I knew he was still alive and at worst, he'd have some bruising around his neck. I heard the woman call an ambulance and the Gardaí as I sped away.

No matter, I would not be around much longer anyways.

As I raced north, I heard a familiar chugging noise. The last Limerick to Ennis train of the day was halfway to its destination. I was surprised it was still running but of course, the weatherman had misinformed them, and the snowstorm had advanced far faster than predicted. No doubt all trains tomorrow would be cancelled, so this was my last chance.

I ran to intercept the tracks, but the train was already there before me. I ran parallel to it, easily keeping pace, and with a little more effort, I outpaced it. I watched the empty carriages fall behind until the front engine was a kilometre distant. Then, I stepped onto the tracks. The train was probably doing considerable speed, even in this weather, and the driver was unlikely to see me, at least not in time. I saw the lights race towards me, sweet death hurling relentlessly my way. I awaited the release with anticipation, knowing I never would've survived as myself in this form.

I said my final goodbyes to my sister in my mind. _Chloe I love you, be good. What am I sayin'? You'll be great_.

I prepared to spend eternity with the rest of my family, hoping that forgiveness and understanding were a bit more plentiful wherever I was going. The lights obscured everything, even from my new eyes. I closed them and let out my final breath. Not fast enough though because the air was knocked out of me by the impact. I heard a sickening crunch, but I was alive, laying flat on the tracks. I watched in horror as the train just rolled on over me. In seconds, the last carriage had passed, and I sat up. I gave an "Ugh" of bewilderment. What was I? I knew I was made of hard stuff but to take a train head-on without a scratch, impossible. I knew I had to do better. I had to be more certain that death would come from my next attempt. I pondered.

A whiff of salt blew in the north-westerly wind. Sea salt.

A new possibility occurred to me. I took off full throttle, without hesitation, toward the north-west, toward the Burren, toward the sea. I couldn't know exactly how fast I was going, but I left the train and Ennis far behind in a few minutes. The wind blustered in protest as I sliced head-on through the gale. The snow pounded me, but my speed created enough friction with the air that the snowflakes melted upon impact. My feet still left nothing but the shallowest impressions in the snow, and they were quickly erased.

It had been less than three minutes, and I'd already reached the south-eastern edge of the Burren, a landscape of bare rock and a maze of crevices stretched out before me, but it was largely obscured from view by the snow. I adjusted my course, heading straight west. Despite almost floating over the ground with my speed, I deftly avoided the crevices I sensed beneath me.

The turmoil in my mind was like an endless fountain of fuel for the blackness. It drew upon my misery, my loneliness, my hopelessness over losing my family and having to abandon my sister. It lapped up my anger, my malice, my self-hate over what I'd become, what they had turned me into to, that they had killed my brother and father, and set it up so that I would kill my sister. My emotions were of an intensity that made the most passionate of human emotions seem apathetic.

The blackness was like a raging inferno that travelled with me as I ran. It stretched itself thin and wide but created a bubble near my body that vaporised the snow and marginally hastened my pace. The sensory element of my ability continued to stretch outward until I touched everything within a mile with my mind. I knew everything immediately. A billion snowflakes with their individual shapes ran through my mind. Trees and bushes of dozens of species all lay dormant, but I sensed the living tissues beneath their tough bark. Foxes, badgers, rabbits, hedgehogs, and an array of rodents sheltered from the bitter weather in a labyrinth of interlinked dens and burrows. I reached out to find caves riddled with stalagmites and stalactites and maintaining a temperature much higher than the topside world.

Then, I traced strange outlines in an underground river. Arms and legs splayed, a head bobbing face down in the water. A body, no two bodies I sensed. They were cold, but otherwise it was hard to understand the cause of death. They had not drowned, no water in the lungs. Then, a stray tendril brushed over a neck wound, a crescent-shaped impression, a bite mark. I faltered in my disgust but quickly regained my pace. I thought of how I was nearly responsible for such an act of barbarism. I had very nearly destroyed another family just as mine had been destroyed by Danny's coven. I could not exist; I was unnatural, an aberration.

My death would be the greatest service I could give to those who would die so that I might go on living.

Not the right word, existing would be better. For in my human life, I was bereft of hope, now I was bereft of life itself. I was no longer alive, no longer a living human being with a beating heart. I was as cold as permafrost and as hard as quartz, nothing more than an animate rock. A rock that needed to draw blood to survive. As I traversed the southern Burren, my destination came into view. A few miles ahead, there was a precipice, the very lip of the Cliffs of Moher. There, at O' Brien's Tower, was its highest point, a seven-hundred foot plunge straight down into the murky depths of the Atlantic Ocean. Whatever I had become, surely I was not that invincible.

The gap between me and my end rapidly closed as the blackness flared. I stretched out for miles into the salty ocean ahead and I watched a million chemical compounds sluggishly intermingle in the icy soup. I sensed my drop point, where I would strike the bottom. The ocean was deceptively shallow at the cliff's base and at the speed this heavy body would fall, I would sink straight down, striking the rocks below. Behind, I sensed hundreds, perhaps thousands of people in the surrounding region. All their voices, their shapes, their faces filtered into my mind, flashing randomly. Their odours were translated by the blackness for my nose, and the smell of so many humans was causing my throat to burn with an agonising craving. Yet, the experience overall was euphoric. It was like being omnipotent, all-seeing, all-knowing, but it wasn't enough to keep me here.

The tower loomed closer, and I knew that not far beyond it was finality, the end. I darted around its raised platform and paid little mind to the intricacy of its design. The blackness clung to it, though, like tenuous hooks trying to hold me back. It fought me, and I sensed it was well connected to the part of my brain governing self-preservation. I knew it couldn't counter my momentum, and so, I threw all my force behind my last few strides. I did not stop at the edge and jump. As I neared it, I just kept going.

Then, in a second, the ground fell away below me, and I was racing defiantly into the Atlantic gales. I barely heard their whine of protest over my insolence, as I continued straight ahead for a tranquil moment. The flurries of snow were less dense here, and they floated by like they were wafting on a gentle breeze. The waves crashed below in a drawn out drone concluded by a fizzing sound. The angry black clouds above shifted and flanked each other like vaporous chess pieces. In that moment of near stillness, I was at peace, for I had made the right choice. I would not kill innocents, and I would not suffer the subsequent guilt. I would die as myself, not _exist_ as some demonic creature.

Then, the acceptance passed as gravity reclaimed me. My legs kicked as I began to curve downwards, and my arms stretched out as if the drag would slow my descent. My body began to tip forwards as the roar of the ocean waves became deafeningly close. I was horizontal facing my demise straight on. Seven hundred feet began to disappear fast. The blackness trailed behind me like the tail of a comet. Out of the corner of my right eye, I could see the cliff-ward side of a sea stack. _Not long now_. In those last moments, I closed my eyes, embracing my fate.

There was a brief sound of splashing water that was followed by a series of cracks, dulled by the dense seawater.

So this was it, death. Yet, the afterlife seemed a little drab. It was dark, cold. Everything was sluggish. It was an abyss. Maybe this was nothingness, a purgatory, or perhaps my own personal hell. Perhaps, creatures such as me didn't get to go through the pearly gates. Then, there was a momentary flicker from what I assumed was overhead. A brightening light peered into my black void. The light was soft and white but shone irregularly like something was passing between me and its source.

Then, I saw a perfect sphere with odd markings and realisation swept over me just before the crashing waves. A blinding effervescence accompanied a massive pull that yanked me upwards and cast me into the freezing air and scathing light before dragging me back down. Then, I was met by another wave and as I surfaced, I saw the cliff tops from whence I'd jumped. I was sucked back down by the current but not for as long this time. I surfaced to find myself drifting from shore. I was already beyond the point where the waves were breaking. I drifted in the relatively gentle undulations of the offshore waters for a few moments whilst I processed what had happened. I'd jumped. I'd fallen. I'd hit the bottom, hard. I'd cracked off the rocks at least four times. I'd been under the icy water for several minutes.

And yet, I'd survived.

I had survived. The cold couldn't touch me. I couldn't drown. My body was seemingly indestructible. I couldn't die by my own hand. Could I die at all? A barely whispered "no" escaped my lips.

Then, my facial features bunched up into outright psychotic rage, and I screamed at the cliffs, "_No! No, damn it, No!_ Let me die, please."

I thrashed at the water and roared, screamed, moaned, whimpered and finally slipped back into the water, wailing. My sobs were tearless, but the ocean washed over me, and once more, the current dragged me under.


	5. Chapter 5 Excuses

5. EXCUSES

I was there again, in the meadow. Strange hooded figures were preparing to attack whilst even eerier forms approached from behind them. I was still crouched, on the ready, prepared at a millisecond's notice to defend myself, to defend the innocent behind me though I had no clue as to their identity. Something was different this time, though. My enemy was not as mysterious. I recognised them for what they were.

My own kind.

For some reason that knowledge infuriated me more. I felt instinctual urges rise within me like those of a predator who must defend his territory against a rival. The four figures nearest to me were edging forward but making no definitively aggressive moves. Still, I growled as ferociously as I could to ward them off. I thought I caught sardonic smiles from under their hoods. They were mocking me. They thought I was just posturing and that, really, I'd be simple to dispatch. I inhaled deeply, puffing out my chest, and snarled maliciously as I prepared to show them how wrong they were.

Then, a familiar voice called from behind, "Don't grieve, live."

I turned to see someone totally unexpected, Fionn, as he was just before he died, his thirteen-year old self. I moved my lips, meaning to speak, but I was flabbergasted, completely caught off guard. He looked at me serenely with complete understanding like everything was crystal clear to him. He spoke in that manner, too. All the while, my assailants seemed frozen, as if the whole scene had paused for a moment.

I looked back at him, but I only managed to utter, "What…am…what does that mean?"

"Live, stop what you're doing."

"But I have to protect you. I can't let them hurt you."

"Things are going to get worse before they get better. You'll want to grieve, to die, like right now."

I considered his comment and replied, "I'm dangerous, to everyone, I'm right to want death."

"It serves no purpose, not in the long run."

"What do you mean? Please explain it to me."

"You're stronger than you think. You can survive this change and those yet to pass."

"What? What's coming? What more could happen to me?"

His voice took on a commanding edge as he replied, "Stop punishing yourself, live, Jason."

"But…WAIT…!"

I snapped out of it just as time unfroze, and I was ripped to pieces by the hooded figures. Of course, I had not dreamt all that. Dreaming requires actual sleep. I had not slept a wink in over a week. I didn't know if it was the turbulent ocean or that maybe this body didn't need sleep, but I had floated amongst the ocean waves in a stupor for seven days. I had not guided myself in any way nor had I orientated myself into any particular position. I just let the ocean do to me what it would. I'd spent the last three days face down in the water. I was surprised this body could float, but I supposed it must have been the buoyancy of my hollow lungs.

The same vision of Fionn in the meadow kept coming to me every time I slipped away from reality into the more tempestuous sea of my mind. He always repeated the same deceptively simple but actually very cryptic requests. He wanted me to live and not grieve, not to be morbid or suicidal because I could do it? Because I could survive this change and the changes to come? I needed more than that, but it was near impossible to influence the visions. I always ended up asking the same questions of him. Still, the lingering doubts had kept me in limbo for this long and were beginning to make me waver.

On the seventh day, I came to a new decision, I would return to dry land and contemplate my next course of action.

So, I swam. I kept swimming and swimming for hours and hours without tiring, all the while defying the currents and waves. I knew I hadn't drifted that far from shore because I'd occasionally catch a glimpse of it on the horizon. However, I was seeing this land through much better eyes, so it was probably a lot further than I imagined. In fact, I spent so long swimming that the sun set and rose in the time it took me to get back. My destination was a tiny island off the coast of Clare. It was isolated, uninhabited, and rarely visited. Its name was Mutton Island.

As I reached the shore, the massive waves broke hard against me. Yet, I managed to stand upon the silty seabed and keep upright despite the water that rushed around me. As I strolled onto the pebbly beach with ease, I noted the desolate landscape. The pebbles ended in a grassy plain that was partially buried in snow. The influence of the ocean had melted back some of the week's snowfalls here. Looking southward to the mainland, I could see that it was still a stark, white landscape, though today, the skies were clear, and the air was slightly warmer, maybe a few degrees above zero.

I made my way up the gentle slope from the pebble beach to the grass lazily. When I stood upon the flat plain, the morning sun greeted me with brilliant rays of sunshine that, despite my insensitivity to temperature, I knew were not very warming. Then, I looked down at my ashen hands. The sunlight glinted off them and fractured into dozens of hues of sparkling light. The beams radiated outward like the light had struck a prism or a clear crystal. I could not fathom what purpose such flashy skin could serve. It occurred to me that humans might find it very beautiful. The deceptive beauty of my radiant skin was just another lure for a predator that didn't need anymore advantages. I grimaced and averted my scrutinising eyes.

I'd had a lot of time in the ocean to think about what I'd become. I really couldn't believe that such a creature, a humanoid predator evolved specifically to hunt people, actually existed. It made a sort of sense I supposed. Humans often saw themselves at the top of the food chain when the fact was that for every large animal, there's always another animal that will eat it. Humans are smart prey, too, and you'd have to be equally smart at the very least to hunt them.

Despite my strength and speed, which were irresistible to any human, I still had a number of traits that made the hunt hilariously simple. My appearance, the sound of my voice, and my smell all seemed to be lures designed to draw in unsuspecting prey. I remembered when Julian bit me that his venom caused paralysis, which tracing back through the reams of information gathered by the blackness, showed that the venom targeted the nerves first. So, I was designed to seduce my prey and if that failed, I could easily incapacitate them.

Then, I would drink their blood.

I didn't sleep either. I didn't need to breathe; it was purely a habitual thing. I knew as the winds switched to an easterly direction, and the smells of the mainland blew in that I didn't want food. I didn't even feel thirst for water. All I wanted was to sink my teeth into my human prey and suck them dry. Even awash in the ocean and smothered by the smell of salt, I could still detect the odour of humans on the mainland. The burning in my throat would not let up. It demanded to be satisfied.

I walked to the centre of the island with withered grass and patchy snow crunching underfoot. I sat there for a few long moments. Eventually the breeze picked up again, submersing me in the sweet scent of humans who were so close, easily within reach. _If I start swimming now, I could be in Doolin or Lahinch in minutes. Why am I resisting my hunger? Perhaps I should just surrender to my new nature. After all, this is what nature intended. I am the predator, and I should accept that_. It was so easy to think of the meal I would enjoy, a whole house of humans would just about banish my cravings, at least for the time being. Still, I knew better than to surrender to those temptations. If I gave in to my hunger, I would also be losing myself.

The sun set and rose again while I sat there in quiet contemplation. If I couldn't die outright, then perhaps I could starve myself to death. I didn't know how long that would take, though, and I imagined I'd fail in the attempt. Still, it was an intriguing possibility, so I stayed sitting. It wasn't like I didn't have my distractions, the blackness provided endless entertainment.

I'd found that, with practice, the sensory side of my ability was easily roused and manipulated without pain or strong emotions. I spread it around me like a bubble and explored the puniest of particles within it. I traced the varying concentrations of air molecules that brushed by, though that proved monotonous as they were mostly the same. I'd search through every blade of grass to see any sign, on the cellular level, of the coming spring. After searching every plant from root to leaf tip, I decided that warmer days were not near. I would examine every pebble on the beach for its unique shape and composition. Even on this barren little islet, the things I could do with my ability were infinite.

On the third day, I'd noticed the burning in my throat had increased from a background irritant to an outright distraction. I couldn't suppress it any longer. Despite delving into the microscopic world and blocking out as much of the crippling sensation as I could with the blackness, my hunger could no longer be ignored. Still, I endeavoured. I tried to keep all my attention squarely upon the micro-fauna of the soil beneath my feet.

I watched strange oblong cells being consumed by a larger multicellular creature that looked like a clear plastic bag filled with glue. There were dozens of different species of bacteria and fungi in this patch of dirt alone. It was interesting to catalogue them all and identify all their unique features. Most of the differences were not obvious and were purely of a biochemical nature.

I noticed that this large predator picked on the oblong cells the most over all the other cells of varying shapes and sizes. Yet, the other cells seemed unperturbed, in fact, it was like they rejoiced. Where the predator cleared away the oblong cells, the others proliferated. I searched for some reason behind this. Then, I understood immediately, the oblongs were the bacterial world's bullies. They were producing a cytotoxin that either killed or cleared out all their competitors, leaving them to reign supreme. Still, their tricks didn't work when faced with something that was not just bigger but stronger. I watched them scurry away from the inevitable, slow progress of their pursuer. I tracked them for hours in fascination and calculated that they'd traversed three micrometers in that time.

Then, a thought occurred to me, a dangerous one: if I were the predator of the human world then who were the bullies? They were the people who stepped over everyone to be on top. They were the people who ruined the lives of others just as effectively as my kind. They were the drug dealers, the gangsters, the rapists, the murderers. They were the oblongs, and I was the predator. If that were the case, then I had the perfect compromise between my morality and my hunger. If I searched out these people and made them disappear, then surely the world would be a better place. Imagine it, if I could only eliminate a tiny fraction of the criminal underworld, think of the good it would do. One less innocent murdered, one less person raped, one less person suffering intimidation or addiction to narcotics. It was a brilliant concept, the perfect loophole. I could kill and not feel guilty about it.

And yet, the part of me that was still me fought against the insidious growth of this idea. My morality was a set of clippers trying to cut at the roots of the parasitic weed, wriggling through my mind. This was not a loophole. No matter who these people were, even murderers, I would not feel justified in killing them. This was no compromise, this was a backdoor route to get what I really wanted: blood. Yet, despite my resistance, I found myself compelled. My instincts were taking control once more. This was all too ideal to ignore.

My body lurched forward in the direction of the mainland. I resisted, but the animalistic compulsions were stronger. Eventually, I found myself running at a human pace. Then I gathered speed. I was at the beach in no time, and waded into the water up to my chest before diving under and beginning my swim.

The distance to land was nothing compared to my previous journey. In addition, this body moved more gracefully in the water than a dolphin's. I managed considerable speed, too, despite the choppy waters. I reached the foot of the cliffs from where I'd taken the plunge into the Atlantic. For my own amusement, I tried to see if I could scale them. I latched onto each ledge and crevice nimbly and where no obvious handholds were nearby, I could spy one further up and jump straight to it. I got to the top, by the tower, easier than a human on a climbing wall.

I paused momentarily, trying to think where would be best to go. It was unlikely I'd meet any criminal deviants out here in the wilderness or in the small towns. Galway, Ennis, or Limerick seemed like the best choices. The two cities would be the more likely spots, but Ennis was a great deal closer. After the starvation and exertion of the week, I could feel that I wouldn't be able to run as fast as I had when I was first changed. It was settled. I would run to Ennis to fill up and from there, I'd make the journey south to Limerick.

Five minutes and I was in Ennis. It was dusk, which made me happy because the sunny day would make me stand out like a sore thumb with my sparkly complexion. I had to be subtle, stealthy, I had to blend into the crowd. That still wasn't easy, though. My white skin glowed slightly under the streetlights. I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in a shop window and saw my eyes were as black as the oncoming night. People would stare at me in awed fear or dart away from me. Some even crossed to the other side of the street. It was clear that these were the actions of skittish little creatures in the presence of a carnivore.

I remembered, as well, that I was still wearing just a t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms with no shoes, both of which were wet and had frozen stiff to my body. It was easy enough, though, to break into people's homes or into shops silently and take what I wanted. I'd stolen a pair of dark denim jeans, a black t-shirt with a red logo on front, a heavy leather jacket, and thick black and red runners. It made me look less conspicuous in the cold weather, but I thought it also made me appear more dangerous.

They all smelled so good. Some were better than others I noted. I saw an overweight, middle-aged man with a balding head who smelt of garlic, cheese, and fizzy orange. His own personal odour was bland, but I would not turn my nose up at him, either. Alas, he wasn't a hardened criminal, so I moved on.

A woman in her late twenties with black hair and tanned skin stood by the empty taxi rank. She seemed irritable and shivered spasmodically. Her tremors caused her sweet odour to wash over me like waves. She smelt of something like lavender, but that was overpowered almost by her designer perfume.

Another girl, who could have been no older than me, sat against a parked Volvo as an older boy attended to the parking meter. She smelled sweeter, a sugary, strawberry odour like jam, which was completely raw and undiluted by perfumes or deodorants. It was mouth-watering. Her boyfriend, I assumed, took her hand and led her down an alleyway towards the cinema. He, too, was blander than the women, like the overweight man, but his odour was more distinct like mint. They would be such easy prey. If I took them in the alley, there would no witnesses, and I could kill them quickly enough to silence their screams. I still had enough strength to carry both of them out of town and feed at my leisure.

_No_, I reminded myself. I would not kill innocents, none of the people here had done anything to warrant such an end. I was about to move on to another part of town when something caught my eye.

A hooded individual at the very far side of the parking lot moving towards another alleyway.

It was a man, and he carried something in his left pocket because it was weighing down his jacket. His odour took a little longer to reach me, it, too, was not that alluring, but it was distinctive, a smell close to that of parsley. He was tall but spindly, and most of his bulk came from the half dozen layers of clothes he had on. He was sickly looking, and I knew he wouldn't make much of meal, but this was the type I was looking for. When he was at the edge of the alleyway, he nodded at no one and slid slowly out of view.

Then, I noticed that the tanned woman hadn't been waiting for a taxi, she'd been looking out for him. Her high heels clicked along the ground as she tried to take a roundabout course to him as not to be conspicuous. I'd probably feel guilty about feeding upon her, but two was better than one. My moral side hoped she was just an addict, a victim and that would allow me to resist the urge and spare her. My hopes were dashed when I saw how much money she removed from her handbag, a wad of cash, all five-hundred-euro notes. She was a distributor, as evil as the rest. I would wait till she was in the alley, and then, I would make my move.

I had only taken one step forward when a voice from behind me made me swivel. "Hi there. You stalkin' who I'm stalkin'?"

The man before me was perhaps twenty years old, but it was hard to tell. His skin was perfectly alabaster white. He wasn't very bulky, but he clearly had a chiselled physique, and his facial features were also very angular, as though they'd been carved. He was not dressed for the weather at all, a thin, blue, long-sleeved top with a stitch design along the seams, a pair of jeans, and slip-on shoes was all he wore. His hair was longish with his fringe meeting his eyebrows and spilling over his ears. Then, I quickly realised why he was familiar and why a growl was struggling to escape my clenched teeth.

He was one of my kind.

He seemed to sense my innate hostility but was unperturbed by it. He smiled genially, which was a little disarming, but I still held myself tense, thinking his apparent friendliness was a ruse. He stuck out a hand very suddenly, which caused me to hop back. Sniggering, he still offered it to me. I took it tentatively. He, however, gripped my hand firmly and shook vigorously.

He spoke with an Irish accent, a Donegal one I thought, with all the edges smoothened out. "The name's Dermot, Dermot McMahon."

"Jason Culhane."

"Nice to meet you. Well, this is exciting. It's not often I meet one of my own kind out these parts, let alone one who shares my mindset."

"Sorry?"

"Only kill the criminals. I assume that's why you were eyeing up your one in heels and the shady looking guy." I hesitated momentarily, but he zoomed ahead. "You're not like an incubus, are you?"

"What?"

"You know, one of those vampires that like to seduce their prey and then feed on them. Personally, I'm not into human women but hey, whatever blows your skirt up."

I'd pretty much forgotten the whole incubus comment and everything else he'd said. Just one word stood out, _vampire_. A vampire, I was a vampire. It sounded so ridiculous to think, let alone say, but then again, it had been the most blatantly obvious summary of what I was, a creature who never sleeps, is fast, strong, seductive in looks and manner, a creature who is both living and dead, a creature that feeds on human blood. I was stunned into silence, my jaw hanging open.

Dermot looked at me with concern, but his words did not convey it. "You okay? You look like you're having a seizure or something?"

"I…I just didn't know."

"Know what?"

"What I was."

He looked thoughtful for a second, and then he said, "Ahhh, you're a newborn."

"Ah, no, I'm sixteen."

"No, no, you're a newborn vampire."

"…Yeah, I suppose you could say that."

"How long have you been in the club?"

"A week and a half."

"You're kidding."

"No, why would I kid?"

"I mean this is crazy. When I was a newborn, there's no way my aunt would have let me inside a town like this. I would've savaged the place. I'm surprised you're not losing it right now and creating a spectacle."

"What do you mean?"

"Man, your creator hasn't taught you very well. You think he or she would've explained it all to you."

"My _creator_ didn't mean to create me. I was an accident."

"Geez, tough luck. It's a good thing you have such self-control, or you'd be feeding crazily, very conspicuous like, attracts the wrong sort of attention." I stared at him questioningly. "You know from the powers-that-be." He glanced over my shoulder and said, "Hey, look man, our main course and dessert are concluding their deal. Tell you what, I feel bad for the way you've been introduced to this life... you hangin' round the area?"

"I was thinking of going to Limerick after this."

"Nice spot, especially if you're looking to feed on their sort. Tell you what, you have these. I spotted a pair of lads pushing some girl round out the road to Shannon. It's probably gotten ugly by now, so I'll be the superhero and come to the rescue. Besides, you look famished, shouldn't starve yourself like that, man. I'll be in Limerick tomorrow myself, droppin' in on the auntie. How 'bout you give us a shout yourself? My aunt's very fond of helping people, not the way I help, though! We'll be happy to explain the whole vampire deal to you."

He seemed genuinely helpful, so I accepted. 'Okay, where should I meet you?"

"Just stop by anywhere in Raheen, I'll know you're there."

"Okay, thank you."

"No sweat, oh and if you're thinking of feeding in Limerick tonight, have a snoop around the alleys up O' Connell Street and near the bus station after three in the morning. Believe me, once that degenerate lot get out of their watering holes, a fair amount of depraved shit goes down."

"I'll definitely check them out."

"Well, I'd best be on my way, catch you later."

In a lightning burst, he was off, disappearing behind some buildings on a turn for Shannon.

I turned around and listened to my quarry's conversation. The woman said, "This stuff better be pure this time. The last batch had a contaminant, and three of my customers ended up in hospital half-dead. I don't need that kind of publicity, especially when an underage girl drops to the floor in convulsions in my club."

"Look, love, these pills are perfectly fine. The geeks made sure to clean up their laboratory set this time. You won't have anymore problems."

"I better not because I can always find another supplier."

"In this town? Good luck."

"You might be surprised to know that there are other towns in this country."

"Yeah, and the guys in Galway and Limerick will charge you thirty percent more. You should be grateful."

"Just keep me out of the newspapers from now on because if you don't, just remember, I know where your manufacturing site is."

I ran into the alley fast. I tipped the woman over, but she was easy to topple in her six-inch heels. She cradled a cut knee and lay there cussing at everything in sight. Then, she saw me with the man in a secure chokehold. I pressed him against the wall as he strained to breathe. He kicked and gripped my hands, trying to loosen them, but to no avail. I found the point on his throat with the greatest blood flow. I saw it pumping through his arteries just under his skin. It flowed faster as his heart throbbed harder. Finally, I allowed my instincts to take over. I sunk my teeth in and felt the sweet blood bathe my tongue and ease the burning in my throat. He let out a high-pitched cry as I drained him, and he jerked his limbs in shock. Slowly but surely though, his struggles became weaker, his breathing shallowed and with the last few drops, his heart stopped. I let his drained body fall to the cobblestones in a heap.

The woman was horrified and was about to let out a scream, but I covered her mouth in a lightning move and shushed her. I pinned her down with the other hand. She tried to wriggle out from under my forceful grip, and she even tried to bite me. She was rewarded for her efforts with two very sore front teeth. I laughed and placed my hand at her neck, watching her throat intently.

She pleaded, "I'll give you anything you want. I can pay you money. You can take the cash from our deal. There's thirty grand there. Please, please, just don't kill me."

"I might oblige, though you don't deserve it, if you would be so kind as to tell me where your _former_ supplier operates out of."

She blurted it out without a moment's hesitation. Her mistake, I lied. There was no way I could have resisted when she'd cut her knee. The aromatic scent of lavender blending with such pristine blood was irresitable. She clearly took better care of herself than the patrons of her club. So enticing, so very lovely just to smell. I couldn't help myself. At the very least, I would make her passing faster than her associate's.

An hour later, I arrived in Limerick. I stopped running near the Coonagh Roundabout and strolled into town at a human pace from there. I estimated it would take me an hour or so to get into the city centre. By then, it would still only be nine-o clock, and the night's revelry would've only just begun.

I'd spent a good bit of time in Ennis when I found the house where the drugs were being manufactured. The supplier I killed seemed to be the top man, but two of his henchmen were keeping an eye on two chemists working in the basement. The place looked in no way clean as the supplier had said. Even without my ability, my enhanced senses could see and smell dirt and greasy residue everywhere. I could smell cleaning agents, bleach, and other narcotics clinging to all the equipment. I didn't really care if they were cleanly in their drug-making. I was just hungry, and they were deserving of my gluttonous interest.

The two chemists cried, and one wet himself when I fed on their supervisors. Both men were big and brawny and were clearly in awe of the fact, right until the moment of their deaths, that I'd overpowered them. One of the chemists passed out whilst the other tried to cut his wrists with a broken beaker, in order to spare himself the kind of death he'd just witnessed. Of course, he could not have made a bigger mistake. His blood sent me into an uncontrolled frenzy, and I tore him apart, biting his wrists and his neck. I was still crazed when I got to the last one. He didn't live long enough to wake up. I found plenty of money in various locations, and I added it to the thirty grand I'd picked up from the club owner. I stuffed the money and some extra clothes I'd pinched into a duffel bag lying nearby. After I was done and I'd calmed sufficiently, I set fire to the basement and let the place burn. I buried the bag just outside of Limerick about four feet down in the frozen soil.

As I ambled up the road, I felt like I was glowing with wellbeing and satisfaction. I couldn't stop smirking and although part of me was appalled with what I'd done, the pleasure of feeling _full_ was too overwhelming. It was liberating in many ways. Whereas I'd forced myself into exile on a desolate island before to contain my hunger, now I could walk amongst humans without batting an eye. Granted, it was still tempting to overfeed myself, but I'd settled into my criminal diet now, and something about cutting down such monstrous people was even more gratifying. Something inside my head screamed at me, though it seemed like a distant echo, saying that I should step back and take a good, long look at myself.

I'd become no better than them. I was a monster, too.

That little girl outside Shannon in her innocence, unclouded by assumptions about this world held by adults, had seen me for what I was. I was a threat, a killer. I was the creature that haunted her nightmares and those of all humans since the dawn of time. Deep down inside, my nobler self struggled against my instinctual self. This "killing-the-bad-ones" loophole that I had concocted was an excuse, nothing more, nothing less. If I really couldn't die, then I couldn't live like this. It was wrong, no matter how much I told myself I was helping people. What I was doing was akin to killing drug lords to feed my own habit and then justifying it by saying at least I killed the drug lords. Yet, despite these thoughts reverberating in my skull, they weren't enough to overcome the stranglehold my instincts had on my self-control.

Having walked for about twenty minutes at a brisk human pace, I was inside town. The city centre was still some distance away, but I entertained myself with everything I could see and hear. Ten thousand conversations, and just as many car engines, buzzed in my ear and were not pleasant to focus on for too long. I heard the soft footfalls of stray pets and wild animals that sneaked between buildings and raided dumpsters. I watched small birds hide in dense thickets of shrubbery far from the roadsides.

I saw the people who crowded the streets, each and every one of their faces, heard every one of their conversations, and caught the scents of hundreds of them as they passed near. I also saw that pickpocketing was rampant. The speed of these thieves' sly moves were no match for my vampire eyes. To me, it was like they moved as slow as a slug. I picked up the pace thereafter, hoping that as night drew closer that it would bring more darkness of an entirely different sort.

I wasn't surprised to find that, on arriving in Limerick city centre, the depravity had already begun. It was a busy Thursday night, mostly students out, it was probably rag week for one of the colleges. That meant boozy teenagers drinking more than they could handle and falling all over themselves. _Easy prey_. I shook at that thought, though. I doubted that I would catch any serious criminal deeds being committed amongst that group. Even though many of the alleyways that Dermot had described as a place to find the "depraved lot" were near the clubs, I stalked around the pubs where their elders wiled away the night instead.

The pubs were emptier as most of their usual patrons only showed on the weekends. I dropped in on one pub whose name I didn't take note of. The smells and sounds that emanated from it indicated it was a little busier than the other establishments. Still, it was near the bus station, and I'd heard several dozen people lurking around the area in alleyways and disserted side streets. This place was already on the boil whilst everywhere else barely simmered.

Something would go down here tonight.

Already, my accelerated vampiric metabolism had burned through the humans I'd fed on in Ennis. I felt the beginnings of hunger as a tingling sensation in my throat. As the night wore on, I sat on a bar stool, looking completely oblivious to everyone and everything despite being wholly attentive. No one sat beside me or spoke to me out of that strange instinctual aversion. The bar tender gave me sidelong glances, knowing I was probably underage but feeling too terrified to say anything. I didn't push my luck by ordering anything, though.

Nothing smelled appealing anyways. The beers, the spirits, the shots all reeked of that horrible stench of alcohol that reminded me of my dad. Even the other odorous ingredients such as the grain in the beer, the apple in the cider, the grape in the wine all drew me back to that memory. I shook it off and shuddered as I did so, as the smell of his blood crept back into my thoughts.

By midnight, my throat was filled with a searing discomfort akin to severe heartburn. Something told me this wasn't right. I shouldn't be needing to feed again so soon. Perhaps it was my new body making up for ten days of starvation. Yet, I sensed if I fed again soon, then I might last longer till the next time. I would probably need an appreciable number of humans but as the ructions breaking out around the pub grew more frequent, I knew I would not be waiting much longer.

Then, barely a few minutes after midnight, I heard a lot of commotion outside, boisterous laughter and the dull thuds of shoving and mess fighting. Then, eight youths barged into the pub, three guys with five girls in tow. I didn't look in their direction, though the rest of the pub's occupants watched them either disapprovingly or warily.

A girl's voice was easily audible over the sudden quietness in the pub. "Sorcha, am, what are we doing here? We should get back to the student village."

This girl named Sorcha replied, "What's the matter with you girls? It's only five past twelve."

I knew her friends were trying to phrase their response so as not to be blatantly obvious to their male company. These boys are very drunk, this isn't a good part of town, and we don't feel safe was the collective consensus I imagined. This Sorcha seemed completely at ease with the situation, probably because she'd gotten just as drunk as the lads she was with.

Her friend tried another approach. "Can I talk to you outside for a minute, Sorcha?"

"Why?"

"It's important. I just want to see you outside."

The girl hesitated, but it was a good move, get her outside, bundle her into a taxi, and get out of this place as fast as possible. She might complain, but she was too drunk to resist, and she'd probably thank them in the morning. However, the boys were having none of it.

The most sober sounding one replied in a threatening tone, "Look, ladies, your friend wants to stay, hang out. That's cool, _right_? There's no problem here I'm sure. If you guys ain't interested anymore, then how about you toddle off and stop cramping our style."

Her friends did not respond. I was beginning to lose interest in their exchange, as was everyone else in the bar, when something clicked in my mind. The boy's voice was familiar but in a vague way. I tried to trace it. I knew I remembered it from school. I found that, as I delved deeper into my human memories, they became fuzzier, unclear, as though every moment of my human life had been experienced in the midst of a thick fog. They all seemed so out of focus compared to my more recent memories. I hoped that this wasn't a sign that I'd soon not remember my human existence. While some parts of my human life I would not miss, I didn't want to forget my family, or Chloe especially, if I had to stay away from her.

I finally narrowed the voice down to someone who also attended Salt Hill Secondary School in Galway. It was someone I didn't like, who I typically avoided. I thought of my list of people to keep away from. I remembered there were ten of them. Three of them were girls, so I could count them out, obviously. Two more were a year ahead of me, and I was certain it was neither of them. Then, I realised who it could be.

One of Danny's old gang.

I stole a glance quicker than their eyes would have registered. It was all of them, Garry, Mason, and Jake. The voice had been Mason's. He'd been like Danny's second in command. They were all my age, but they all appeared older, mainly due to their heights, builds, and stubbly faces. I remembered Danny had been the tallest, but all of them surpassed me in height, and Mason and Jake were definitely of a bigger build. None of that mattered anymore, though. I could simply yank an arm too hard now and rip it from their bodies.

I surmised that they'd had no trouble getting into clubs and getting served, and they probably had fake IDs to back them up. Sorcha, who sat in the middle of them at a low table, was short with dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, a small nose, and plump lips. Her body looked very graceful, and petite. Her smell was distinct amongst all the human odours in the pub that I'd tried to ignore, it was the smell of roses with a hint of something pungent like a spice. As before, the scents of the males, Garry, Mason, and Jake, were less enticing but nevertheless unique. I smelled odours much like freshly-cut grass, rosemary, and sage respectively. The girl was quite alluring but if anything were to happen here, she'd most likely be the victim and not the perpetrator.

Her friends shuffled uncomfortably, and the one who spoke before said, "Okay, Sorcha, you can stay if you want, but we're calling it a night."

"That's okay girls…I'll see you in class bright and early tomorrow."

"I hope so." She muttered that last line as she turned to leave.

Sorcha and the boys were too drunk to even realise she'd said anything. Her friends filed out, and I heard the slam of car doors. They'd already made sure they had a getaway car waiting, which was smart considering the ruckus I was hearing around the establishment. I returned my attention to Sorcha, catching lightning-fast glimpses. Her pupils were dilating and buried amongst the odours of the numerous different beverages she'd had was something I was familiar with.

There was the faint scent of a narcotic on her breath.

They'd slipped her something, a date-rape drug no doubt. I could see it at work as each moment passed. She became dopy, clumsy, knocking her glass three times. She seemed to lose her balance a lot and could not maintain eye contact when she was spoken to. I saw the spreading grins on all the boys faces, it was working, and they were loving it. I knew where this was headed. It would start with them leading her out of this pub under the guise of appearing gentlemanly and escorting the tipsy girl home.

It wasn't even half twelve when they made their move.

Sorcha was totally inebriated, not able to stand or to keep her eyes open. Jake and Garry both carried her with each of her arms over their shoulders as her floppy legs could not find purchase on the ground. Mason sauntered behind, clearly pleased with himself. His smugness would have made me sick if I were capable of that reflex anymore. The people in the bar looked after them with sympathetic expressions as they hauled her out. They all knew what was about to happen just as well as I did, but none of them were of the mind to intervene.

I waited a few more seconds, listening to their footsteps as they headed around the corner into an alleyway. I knew exactly where they were, far enough up the alleyway to be out of sight and earshot. I'd seen a number of dumpsters and barrels strewn about where they were as I'd passed it earlier. A few seconds later, the footsteps stopped. I noted their positions. One of them had stopped six feet away from the others, a lookout. The other two had carried Sorcha a little further and lowered her to the ground with surprising gentleness. They probably didn't want her to wake up. I was sure the rich boys would all feel a lot more comfortable (and less guilty) if they didn't have to look their victim in the eyes. I heard shuffling and the rumpling of a light garment, probably Sorcha's dress. One of the boys' breathing became heavier and another stood nearby sniggering. I heard a zipper being undone, and I lurched towards the door, only to be halted by the last people I expected or needed.

Two Garda officers stood before me.

One was a tall, spindly man with small eyes and a disproportionately large nose. The other was a woman of average height but a hefty build with a ponytail that she seemingly didn't have enough hair for. The man stood behind her, looking around him nervously, as the pub's patrons eyed him, not appreciating his presence. The woman was more serious and only looked at me. I was surprised that their entry hadn't immediately caught my attention, but I guessed it was because my focus had been elsewhere. The bartender now stood nearby, right across from the chair I'd been sitting in.

She looked around me for a moment to him and asked, "Is this him?"

"Yeah," he grunted. Obviously, he didn't want the Gardaí here anymore than his customers, but I must just have freaked him out that much. The female Garda also looked like she'd rather be anywhere else, her partner definitely so, but still, she maintained her sternness and asked, "Can I see some ID?"

I replied coldly, "No need, I'm not drunk, and I was just leaving."

"Neither of which matter given that you're underage in a pub, without a guardian present, after nine. Now, if you are cooperative, I will take you to the station and contact your parents. If you aren't however…well then handcuffs and a jail cell become necessary."

I didn't mean to growl, but I was frustrated. I didn't like what I was hearing from the alleyway, and I just wanted to run out the door and intercede. I replied to her implied threat, "I think you'll find that there will be no one at home tonight. No need to waste your time."

"Then, we'll just have to hold you until we can get in touch with them… sir, can you look straight at me, please?"

I stared at her icily, but she displayed no hint of fear, which was impressive.

She seemed to scrutinise each of my eyes, and then, she spoke as though thinking aloud, "Your pupils look very dilated, strange hint of red where your irises should be." Then she addressed me once more, "You might not be drunk, sir, but is there something else you may have taken? It'll be easier for you if you just say so now."

My upper lip twitched as it tried to pull up into a snarl. The Garda obviously sensed my hostility but was still not fearful, just aggravated. I spoke, just as irritated, "Look, lady, I am not a drunkard or a druggie. I'm not disturbing the peace, so can't you just let me be on my way?"

I supposed calling her "lady" was a bad move if I was trying to get out of this diplomatically. Her cheeks reddened, her nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed. If I really were just an underage drinker, then right about then, I'd be wetting myself. She caught me roughly by the shoulder and spun me around. With her partner's assistance, she handcuffed me and began reading me my rights. She spat and hissed through most of it before leading me to the door. As she led me out, she avoided touching my skin directly. I saw her face and realised she'd finally found something about me that perturbed her. This was a small inconvenience anyhow. Handcuffs would be about as effective as binding me with overcooked spaghetti, and I could get away from them faster than they could blink. I thought it would be better, though, if I waited until I was outside for that particular magic act.

Then, from the alleyway, I heard a brief scream that was quickly muffled, probably by a hand. Still, the moans, cries, and thrashing were audible to me.

I heard Garry shouting at her, "_Shut up! Stay still!_"

More sniggering and then, I heard Mason say, "Don't fret, love. It's his first time, he won't last too much longer."

Then, Jake added, "It's me and you, man, she should save her energy for."

Mason laughed, and I heard the girl sobbing uncontrollably. She fought back harder. Garry grew more and more frustrated. I heard a few sickening crunches. Then, a very, very slight vibration of the air, a faint sound muffled by flesh, but it was clear to me what it was, a slice. Sorcha let out a surprised yelp against Garry's hand. I heard a pounding noise and more thrashing.

Then, Mason's disapproving voice was clearly audible, "Garry, what the fuck is your damage?"

"It was such a turn off. She was ruining my fun."

"So you stabbed her? Why the fuck have you a knife anyways?"

"Protection-I ain't as big as you two."

"Well that's bloody brilliant, man. Now what are we supposed to do?"

Jake added, "We're gonna have to go work some other broad."

"That's not what I mean, man. What about her?"

I heard Sorcha's weakening heart. There was a lot of blood, I could smell it, and my hunting instincts were clawing at my insides. While I'd been listening, I'd only half been paying attention to the Garda. She questioned me and without thinking, I'd given her my name and address. She looked stunned and, for the first time, terrified. I was bemused by her sudden lapse into cowardice. She had seemed so self-assured and brave before. Then, it occurred to me that the deaths of my dad and brother had been passed off as murders by Chloe. She'd have described it as a home invasion or burglary gone wrong. She might not have been able to come up with a believable explanation for why I'd disappeared. Therefore, I might be considered a suspect.

I flashed the Garda a knowing smirk. She winced and reached for her radio. In the second she took to look down at her belt, I had snapped the cuffs and had raced along the few hundred meters to Mason and his gang. I had approached in total silence and ducked behind a nearby dumpster. The lighting here was from a few outdoor lights on the buildings which were very dim. A fog was beginning to descend, too. _Excellent cover_.

Off in the distance, I could hear the Garda screeching in panic down her radio. Given how busy they likely were tonight, I guessed I had maybe fifteen to twenty minutes tops before this place was crawling with Gardaí. I knew though, even if she guessed where I'd gone or heard any commotion herself, even she would not follow. No Garda in this town would brave it's most dangerous alleys and neighbourhoods without considerable backup, especially given that they are an unarmed police force. Also, everyone knew the force was stretched thin in this town so organising enough reinforcements to apprehend a suspected serial killer would take time. That meant I had all those fifteen minutes.

For a few moments, I listened to the boys' frantic deliberations. "Should we call anonymously and say we found her and then make a run for it?"

Jake dismissed this. "Nah man, she's already seen our faces. She's still lookin' at us for Christ sake."

"Garry, throw your jacket over her or somethin'," Mason ordered.

Jake whispered now, or at least he thought he was, "Man, maybe it'll be easier if we just leave her here."

"…She mightn't die you know."

"Then…maybe we should finish the job."

"You wanna do it? Go ahead."

"I'll do it," said Garry, almost eagerly, as though he enjoyed making her suffer. His vengefulness was akin to a child's, but his immaturity might cost this girl her life. Mason and Jake acted as though this was ideal. Sure Garry had been the only one to touch her and if he killed her, then he'd be convicted of both crimes. I had no doubt that Mason and Jake would turn on him in that event and testify against him.

Garry had already whipped out his knife and leant over her excitedly. I stepped out as they all had their backs to me. Sorcha had pulled the jacket away from her face. Her breaths were quick and shallow. She became even more frantic as Garry's knife neared her throat. I could see he'd already stabbed her in the gut twice and slashed her upper body and face. He'd managed to do quite a bit of damage before Mason had stopped him. Despite her injuries, she was conscious enough to cower away from him. Her eyes seemed to be only thing that responded, though, as she scrunched them closed. Garry pulled back his arm, keen to finish her, when I decided to have some fun of my own.

I spoke up whilst remaining in the shadows. "Oh Garry, you never were very smart, were you?"

Mason and Jake spun around and crouched defensively whilst Garry looked up, both stunned and terrified that he'd been caught in the act.

I continued as they remained silent but breathless. "No protection, bare hands, blood all over you. You really think that just 'cause she won't be around to pick you out of a line-up means that you won't get caught. No doubt your _friends_ know that. This all works out nice and neat for them. I'm surprised you're all still together anyhow. I thought the band would break up after its lead singer got shipped off to juve."

Mason tried to sound confident from behind Jake saying, "Who…who are you? Am…never mind…just get the hell out of here. This is none of your business."

I ignored his shaky command and asked, "Why, Mason? Are you telling me you don't recognise my voice?" It occurred to me a moment later that my voice probably sounded a good bit different from when we last met, so I pre-empted his bewildered questions. "You might recall we had a little run-in in the lads' bathroom in school. Caught you lot out for being very naughty, like you're being right now. Naturally, you tried to kill me, too, but I gave you something to think about." I stepped forward, so my outline was more apparent, but my face was still unclear. Still, recognition escaped them, and I had no time for these nitwits to catch up, so I continued, noticing something about Garry's face. "Hey Garry, that's an awful crook you've got on your nose. I bet I can guess how you got it." I grinned showing all my teeth.

Garry stood and waved the knife in my direction, screaming, "_Culhane!_ Mason, it's that freak kid, Culhane."

He was about to take another step forward when Mason waved him back, "Garry, enough. Stay."

I added, "Yes, Garry, stay. Good doggie."

He tried to growl, but it ended up as a shallow rumble. He jiggled about and asked, "Mason, man, please let me at him. I wanna bust up his face, so he knows what it's like to look deformed."

I kept taunting him. "Now, now, Garry, tut-tut. Do what you're told and maybe your master will give you a doggie treat later." It was crude humour, but I knew that I had to stay on their level for them to understand.

Mason finally spoke up with a little more backbone, "So, Jason, right? Been a while. Heard things didn't turn out so well for you after you left."

"Shit happens."

"I agree, so if I were you, I'd get lost and accept that this here is just more of the same. You saw _nothin'_." That last part was a little quaky. I guessed he'd just realised I was a witness to his crime.

I dismissed his threats and just watched him for a moment. He really did seem like he was trying hard to hold his composure. He'd be relatively still to a human eye, but I could see hairs rising on his prickled skin and the minute shudders. I wondered if my family's murder had been public news.

I decided to get some information. "So, Mason, what exactly have you heard about me?"

"Huh, what haven't I heard? Bankruptcy, loss of home, school, jobs, your mom croaking. You have my condolences by the way." I inhaled sharply at his mockery, but he continued. "Too bad about your dad and brother, too. Shocking stuff, I wonder who did it? Too bad your little sister is too catatonic to say anything. There are all sorts of wild theories out there. It's oddly convenient that you happened not to be there when it went down, ain't it?"

"Quite…" I replied venomously.

The blackness had been sparked off as my anger towards him rose. My sadness over my sister seeped in, too, as I thought about the state she must be in not to be able to utter a word.

Mason ranted on. "Yeah, yeah, very strange. Very strange that all three of us and Danny were beating the crap out of you one second, and we were waking up with our asses kicked in the next. Strange again that your mother died right in front of you under "inexplicable circumstances" I think was the newspaper headline, and of course, now, the rest of your family, almost. I wonder what you'll do next. Will you bludgeon your sister next, Culhane? I'm sure you'll get a kick out of that."

I wanted to bludgeon _him_ and use the blackness to slowly rip him apart while he was still alive. And yet, another desire was stronger, the desire to feed. They were intoxicated with alcohol and drugs, but I'd deal with the unpleasant aftertaste. I was starving for the crimson elixir just running through their veins, serving no good purpose but keeping these blueblood delinquents alive. I reined in the blackness as it stretched out to crush them. I watched Mason as he slowly retreated backward until he was almost beside Garry.

I decided to play on his assumption that I was a cold-blooded killer and replied, "If I am a murderer, Mason, you'd do well not to taunt me, don't you think?"

Mason froze, taken aback by what I'd said.

He replied, trying to seem convincing, "Whatever, Culhane, you might've got the upper hand last time, but you don't scare me. In fact, you'll be our perfect scapegoat." He swiped the knife from Garry and flung it right at my chest. My reflexes responded to it as though it were spinning at me as languidly as a butterfly fluttering towards a flower. I caught the handle with the blade mere millimetres from my chest, right above where my heart once beat. If I hadn't caught it then, the knife rebounding off me might have frightened them just as much. Still, this, I imagined, terrified them a great deal more. I grinned once again. Mason was dumbfounded. His plan was probably to incapacitate me and leave me here with a dead girl and the murder weapon. Given my current status, no one would question that I'd done it, not with the bloody blade on my person.

Blood, the blade was smeared with the girl's blood.

Its scent was invigorating. So hard to resist, she'd taste so good, but she was not going to be my victim after all this.

I dropped the knife and said coldly, "Nice try, Mason, but it'll take more than some shabby knife-throwing to stop me. I wouldn't even have felt that."

He tried to be brave and half-shouted, "What do you feel, Culhane? Huh? Remorse? Guilt? Or do you get your jollies out of killing people? You lookin' forward to how it'll feel to kill your sister?"

It took every last iota of my conscious effort not to reach out with my mind and crush his head to a bloody pulp. No, that would be too easy. I would make sure he suffered. He should never have mentioned Chloe like that. I might've been merciful enough to drain him fast if he hadn't.

He'd regret it, and still, he riled me up further. "Well, Culhane? Will it feel good? Do you feel good thinking about it?"

"Do you want to know how I feel, Mason?" I stepped into the light, so my ghost-white skin and pitch black eyes were clear to see. They all went as white as me, almost, and froze rigid in place. I finished as Mason's jaw slowly dropped, "I feel hungry." I grinned maliciously and lunged.

It all happened so fast that they hadn't moved their bodies an inch when I reached them. Jake was the first to go down. I caught him by the waist, crushing his lower ribs in my grip, and swung him hard against the near wall. I heard his spine and skull crack loudly against the brick. He wasn't dead yet, but his heartbeat was almost nonexistent. Mason was next in line. I decided to feed upon him last, so he'd know what was coming. So, I crouched low in the middle of my run and clasped my hand around his left knee. With a flick of my wrist, every muscle fibre, tendon, and bone was ripped, and he collapsed to the ground in excruciating pain.

Garry would be my first meal. Mason had fallen in such a way that he faced in his direction. I grabbed Garry firmly by the throat, almost choking him in that instant. I slammed him to the ground. He tried to wrench my hand away to no avail and kicked his legs fitfully as I squeezed tighter. Then, as Mason had finished screaming his head off, I bit down on Garry's throat, using my hand to hold his head down. He squealed as I sucked him dry and cried out for mercy, which I laughed at through my bloodlust. I wasn't wrong about the bitter aftertaste of the drugs and alcohol in his system, but my hunger was too strong to be dissuaded by it. Garry didn't last much longer. As I passed the halfway mark of his blood volume, his heart gave out. Since he was already dead and no more use to me in horrifying Mason, I finished more quickly.

Then, on my way over to Jake, I gave Mason a light tap of my foot to turn him over, though it was likely equivalent to a hard kick in the stomach. He rolled onto his other side involuntarily and moaned in agony. He could barely watch as I fed on Jake. He, too, didn't survive for long, probably due to the severity of his injuries. I was distracted for a moment while feeding on him because, although he'd been drinking, his blood was clean of any foul-tasting narcotics.

As I gorged myself, Mason tried to crawl away, dragging his half-severed leg behind. His yelling eventually drew my attention. I strolled up casually behind him. He saw me coming and kept yelling through sobs for someone to help. I brought my leg up and stamped upon his already mangled knee. His scream was high-pitched and was followed by more agonised whimpers. At the far end of the alley, I heard the female Garda shouting frantically into her radio for her fellow officers to step on it. She had come a few dozen feet into this alleyway, and she probably heard Mason's cries. I could make her out now, but through the thickening fog and all the garbage littering the alley, she couldn't see its end where we were. Even given Mason's screams of pain, she wouldn't come closer until backup arrived, especially since she thought she was pursuing a murderer. So, I lifted Mason up by the scruff of his neck and pressed him against a wall.

He started apologising to me for some reason and pleaded with me, saying, "I-I'm so-rry, please…please don't kill me."

"Are you going to apologise to Sorcha?"

His head was pinned so that he faced her. She was barely conscious now but looking into her eyes caused him just as much pain as his injuries. I did not follow his gaze, but he said nothing, so I pushed him harder against the wall.

He winced and said, "I'm sorry! I'm so…sorry…for wha-what we did to you."

I didn't see if she acknowledged him in any way. I just said to him icily, "It's good that you're repentant. Maybe now they won't put you in such a ghastly corner of hell."

Before he said another word, I'd sunk my teeth in. He screamed and struggled at the start but, as I fed as slowly as I could, he began to weep hopelessly. I felt a surge of pity for him but, more so, I felt condemnation for myself. I couldn't stop once I'd started and even if I did, then Mason would become like me, I wouldn't wish that on him even. I heaved and the last of his blood flowed out of him in a few seconds.

He slumped to the ground, eyes still wide in horror, glaring at Sorcha. She seemed more animated now and quavered with fear, but not of the boys or of dying from her wounds, her eyes were locked on me in terror. I hated how I looked back at her, how my hunting instincts examined my prey. She was smaller than the boys and had lost a good deal of blood. Still, the aroma of it was so much more wonderful than theirs. It disgusted me, that part of me that was still human, how could I deliberate over her life like this as though I were merely deciding whether or not to have the dessert course of a meal? Involuntarily, my feet took several small steps towards her. Her breathing heightened, and her heart pumped furiously, causing more blood to gush from her wounds. As I crouched at her side, she cringed away and let out a small sob. She fell silent as my hand reached out for her.

I stopped dead. I realised I was satiated, and I could beat back my hunger. My conscience launched itself out of the cage my instincts had put it in and after a few seconds quarrel, their positions were reversed. I was some semblance of myself again. Yet, I couldn't dwell on that for too long. I had to keep it together if I was going to get Sorcha out of here. As I scooped her up into my arms as gently as I could, supporting her legs with one arm and her shoulders with another, I took my first good look at her face. She was pretty, but I sensed familiarity there. It had been similar to my recall of Mason's voice, but this was even vaguer. It was a distant and not well defined human memory, a brief meeting perhaps. I couldn't imagine this girl having anything to do with my life after I moved to Galway, so the memory was distant indeed. It would take some concentration to root it out fully.

No time for that though, I could hear and see the life draining from her. Her heart was weak, her skin pale and cold. If she weren't so fragile, she could be mistaken for a vampire. Moments later, I heard six Garda cars pull up at the far end of the alleyway. I would have to be quick. I raced out of the alleyway with her in my arms. I whooshed by the waiting Gardaí so fast that they barely noticed. In fact, as I ran through town and out O' Connell's Street, nobody caught so much as a glimpse of me. I weaved through the crowds, cars, street lights, and sign posts effortlessly as though I were merely strolling amongst them. It was only then that I realised how my eyes worked so well to pick out obstacles in my path, even at this speed. I wasn't perfect however. People caught in my wake were nearly toppled by a chill gust of wind, and I thought I might have nudged someone as I passed a shopping centre. I didn't stop to see if I'd hurt them though, I was nearly at my destination.

Just up ahead was the Limerick Regional Hospital.

I shot through the car park and reception area outside, stopped for a second to allow the automatic doors to part, and zoomed right up to the front desk. The woman behind it was startled by my sudden appearance. She'd been staring into the spot where I stood and couldn't seem to get any words out.

Before she could become frightened by me, I said impatiently, "This girl's been stabbed. She needs a doctor right now."

"Ah…oh…of course," she spoke into a microphone, "Dr. McMahon, I have an assault victim in critical condition in the A&E. She may need to be taken to theatre."

I heard a beautifully musical voice reply. "_All right, I'll be up with some nurses in a minute_."

Exactly sixty seconds later, the doctor arrived from a door adjacent to reception with a gurney and two male nurses. The two men easily took her from my arms and lowered her delicately onto the bed. I watched as they wheeled her away. I hadn't noticed the doctor still standing there and when I did, I gave a start. She watched me with revulsion that I didn't understand at the time. I looked back bemused but examined her furtively. Mahogany hair in curls, porcelain skin, sharp facial features, burgundy eyes that were near claret.

Ah, there it went again, another pang of familiarity.


	6. Chapter 6 Friendly Face

6. FRIENDLY FACES

I hurried out of the reception area as petrified patients watched me warily. The doctors and nurses watched me, too, but in a more stern sense. The woman, Dr. McMahon, was most definitely a vampire, and I knew I remembered her. I'd been her patient before, three years previous, after the car accident. I didn't understand it. How could a vampire be in a hospital with such vulnerable prey and so much blood? It was the most contradictory thing I'd ever seen in my life, a vampire who's also a doctor. That wasn't the only reason I left hastily, though. She definitely did not make me feel welcome. Her perfect features contorted when I met her gaze, and I swore she was going to growl at me right there in front of everyone. She didn't, though, but if looks could kill, then the expression she fixed me with would cause a massacre.

As I neared the hospital gates, I prepared to run. Then, I heard the doctor call for one of her counterparts to look after Sorcha. She exited the hospital and just uttered the word "Wait" in a normal voice, which she knew I could still hear. I considered not obliging. So far I'd had only one amiable encounter with another of my kind, and that was Dermot-this didn't look like it would pan out the same way. I imagined it would be somewhere between being almost killed by Danny's coven and my friendly, light-hearted chat with Dermot. That left a wide range of possibilities, but I doubted she'd attack me here.

She glided along the ground towards me but at a human pace, still she was incredibly graceful. I walked back the way I came a bit so as to meet her halfway. She stopped perhaps ten feet away from me, and wrinkled her nose in disgust. She did not speak and simply glowered at me, trembling ever so slightly with her rage.

Despite her antagonism, I grew frustrated with her and asked, "Was there something else?"

"Odd one, you are." I noticed the northern accent, and it reminded me of Dermot's.

I replied, "Excuse me?"

"It's not often that vampires half-kill their victims and then bring them to hospital. Do you get some twisted pleasure out of it?"

"No but I do get a kick out of feeding upon the kind of people who would do that."

"…Oh, I get it. So you think you're a vigilante, is it?"

"If you want to call it that…"

"Ah, no, you are purely self-serving. Killing the worst of humanity is your way of kidding yourself into thinking you're doing no wrong. That anyone else benefits is just a small bonus for you."

"Wow, well, there you have it. You've figured me out. And I suppose you think you're euthanizing your victims, after all, they're going to die anyway. You're only doing them a favour."

She covered nine feet almost too fast for my eyes to register and was suddenly right in my face snarling. She shoved me, and I fell back down the slope to the road. No one saw as they would be wondering how she managed to hurl me a full twenty feet. I was back on my feet in a second, and the doctor drew in breath raggedly.

Her lip curled up every few seconds before she said, "Watch your mouth, leech, unlike you I actually help people, and as for my feeding habits, if you must know, it's called donated blood."

I was shocked. I mumbled, "Is…is that possible?"

She smirked disdainfully and replied, "Of course it is. Just like drinking the blood of the recently deceased is moral, at least compared to your lifestyle, not that that matters to you. After all, nothing beats hunting down your prey and feeding off their fresh, warm blood."

"Where can I get it?"

"What? Donated blood?"

"Yeah, is there a blood bank or something in there?"

"…Look, I don't buy your little moment of goodness, so if you take one more step towards that hospital, I can and will tear you apart."

I pleaded, "Look, please, you don't understand. I'm a…newborn, I've only been in this life for ten days. I don't want to kill people, but I can't stand the hunger. Please, if there's another way…"

She seemed to be looking at me but at the same time looking through me. A second later, she returned to the land of the living, if you could say that about my kind.

Her expression became very solemn, and she asked, "Jason Culhane, right?"

"Yes, how did you…"

"We've met before, in this hospital, car accident. You have an ability that you cannot control fully; it controls you sometimes, though. You've moved around a lot recently. You and your sister accidentally killed your mother for lack of control over your talents. You were changed by a member of the Genoan Coven. Its newest member, Danny, sought revenge against you. They killed your brother and father. You tried to isolate yourself from humans, including your sister, but you failed. You found a loophole that allowed you to feed. Still, you know it's wrong, even criminals don't deserve that fate, and their victims are more afraid of you than them. You thought saving Sorcha would absolve you somehow. She's your second cousin by the way."

I continued to stare at her for a long moment.

My mind tried to process what I was hearing, and I'd just got to the confusion stage when she spoke again, "You're wondering how I know all this? Things that are even only known to you?" I nodded affirmatively. She smiled, and her expression softened as she continued, "Well, I know a lot more than what I've just said, including that you've met my nephew, who also follows the vigilante lifestyle, to my abhorrence."

"But you haven't explained…how?"

"Well, for the moment, let's just say the _truth_ never escapes me."

She finished her shift not long after, and we took a short jaunt past the hospital and out towards the city limits. Once we'd passed the last housing estates, we ran at a vampire pace. I couldn't tell where she was leading me. It was definitely westward, so we were going deeper into Limerick County. I hadn't been out here often before, but we passed near two villages that I recognised as Patrickswell and Kildimo. Then, we largely avoided human settlements of all sorts, including isolated houses, running for at least another six minutes.

We were both well fed, so it was easier to run at top speed for a long period of time. To a human observer, we'd be moving so fast that their eyes wouldn't register our passing, even if we slowed, they'd only see a transient blur like a mirage. With the cover of night, we were even more invisible. It was exhilarating somehow to just run and not out of need. I counted in my head that we'd run for exactly six minutes and twenty-two seconds when we came to a stop. In that time, we could easily have traversed Limerick and found our way into Kerry or Cork. Sure enough, Dr. McMahon told me we weren't far from Killarney. I was amazed at how fast we did that. Unless we took a Formula One car and ignored all speed limits between Limerick and Killarney, we could never hope to make the journey in less than ninety minutes by car.

We had stopped not far from a cottage on the side of an ill-maintained road. If I hadn't gained a measure of gracefulness from becoming a vampire, then I'd have stumbled over the numerous potholes, surface cracks, and tufts of grass. Overgrown hedgerows lined the road, and rock-strewn fields lay opposite the cottage. The cottage itself was immaculate, set against a backdrop of dense woodland. It was painted completely white, but the walls were clean and the paint flawless. The roof slates and gutters were all neat, and not one looked in need of attention. No weeds grew along the edges of the paved driveway or near the house. The lawn was perfectly square, and bare rose bushes lined either side of the driveway, which also led up to the door. The surrounding trees seemed to lean towards the small house, but none of their branches encroached upon the property. It was quite idyllic, peaceful, and suitably isolated.

I could smell human odours, but I was sure they were miles away, probably in Killarney town itself. She rooted around for a key in a handbag she carried as we neared the front door. The door was varnished wood with an ornate gold-coloured lock and handle and a small semi-circular, stained-glass window at head height. She opened it quickly and escorted me inside. Straight away, we were in a living room, and she gestured for me to take a seat. I sat in an armchair that I sank deeply into. I examined the space and found it very well-furbished with expensive chairs, sofas, a coffee table, glass cabinets, and a plasma screen television. There was a cavernous fireplace with a marble mantle above it right beside my seat but it, and the small kitchen in the next room, which I could just peer into, looked like they'd never been used. Another door led on to a long corridor where there were probably bedrooms and a bathroom.

As I glanced around like a restless child, I asked, "Did you build this?"

"Ahuh, many years back with the help of my nephew."

"Very impressive, Dr. McMahon."

"Please, my name is Fiona. Anyhow, I have to say, now that I know the truth, it's hard not to be impressed by you."

"Why?" I was honestly perplexed by this.

"Well, for starters, I was intentionally leading you away from humans for the whole journey, and not once did you stray, even though the smell was present the whole time. On top of that, you resisted killing both your sister and that family near Shannon. It's almost unbelievable that you managed to exile yourself on Mutton Island. I may not agree with your actions thereafter, but given the circumstances of your creation and your ill-preparedness for this life, I can understand."

"Your nephew seemed awfully surprised by me, too."

"Because you're a newborn with self-control."

"Danny's only been in this life for a few months, he has self-control."

She laughed, "Hah, _no_, believe me, he doesn't. He has Sophia to control him."

"Okay, you know what, this is weird that you know everything, so explain that first."

"I have an ability like you do. Though mine is not as obvious as yours."

"What can you do?"

"I'm a truth-seer. I merely need to concentrate on a person or a situation, and I gain complete understanding of it. I know things that have happened and how they have led to a current situation. With people, I can know their whole lives in and out if I choose, and I can see how other lives intertwine with theirs. It carried over from my human life. Before I became a vampire, everyone knew me for my intuition and how I seemed to come to know people better than they knew themselves."

"That's…pretty cool, do all vampires have an ability?"

"No, in fact, very few do, for instance, Dermot has no ability per se. Although, he was quite charming as a human, and now he seems to mesmerise people. I dislike how he uses that to his advantage, though."

I was about to ask another question when I huffed in hesitation and said, "God, there are so many things to ask, about vampires, abilities, covens. Well, could you tell me if my sister is okay?"

"Normally, that would be difficult, since I usually have to meet people to understand them. Luckily, I met Chloe when I first met you. Feisty, little girl."

"That she is."

"Her ability is interesting, emotion manipulation."

"So that's what she can do."

"Yes, the soothing or agitation of emotional states, so strange that both your abilities were so prominent in your human lives. It must be some genetic quirk."

"But is she all right at this moment?"

"She's with your relatives. She's finally speaking, and she's told the Gardaí that you were not responsible for the murders of your father and brother. They still suspect you're involved with the people who did."

"Hmm, if only they knew."

We heard footfalls in the distance, and we both stood. They were definitely a vampire's, and I became anxious, but Fiona seemed to recognise them. A few seconds later and Dermot arrived in the door. He was dripping wet, and his boots were muddied. Fiona scowled at him and dragged him back outside by the arm.

She yammered, "You did it again, didn't you? You swam across the estuary. Get your mucky boots off outside the door, and stop ruining my carpets. Oh and by the way, how could you leave Jason to fend for himself? He's sixteen just and new to this life, are you mad?"

"Okay, okay, the boots are coming off."

"Too late now, and you're dripping water everywhere. Into your room and change, please."

"Okay, I'm going."

He disappeared for perhaps twenty seconds, but he came back dressed in another long-sleeved top, light blue with a black logo this time, and grey tracksuit bottoms with no shoes. He was totally dry and just plopped himself down on the other armchair opposite me.

Fiona sat on the sofa again and said, "Heh, you can get up off your arse now and clean the mess you made."

"But I'll have to change again."

"Add it to your growing laundry pile."

"Fine," he zipped into the kitchen and returned with bottles of various cleaning agents, scrubbers, sponges, and a bucket of water. He looked up at me whilst he scrubbed the muck out of the carpet and said, "I am sorry man, I get my aunt's point. I should've brought you to her or explained things better. You did a good job on that druggie house in Ennis but those two in the alley and the three guys in Limerick; you really have to clean up after yourself. Remember, wrong kind of attention."

"Oh, I'm sorry, didn't think that was an issue."

"Don't get me wrong, in a lot of countries vampire killings can be passed off as vicious animal attacks. Too bad in Ireland there aren't many animals that can do that. But don't worry yourself, I've got you covered. Fiona called me from the hospital after you both met, so I picked up your scent and found all your, am, leftovers. They won't be found anytime soon."

"Even the guys in Limerick? Surely the Gardaí found them first."

"Yeah, that was tricky but hilarious. The pathologist had just arrived and was examining the scene but as soon as she'd turned her back, I'd brought all three bodies to a dumpster in an adjacent alley. She had a shit fit at the Garda officers who were supposed to be watching, it was priceless." Fiona eyed him very disapprovingly, and he faltered before concluding, saying, "Am, yeah, well, from there, I took them to the estuary, tied a few bricks to them and dragged them down to the riverbed. They'll be out in the Atlantic before the end of the week."

"Thanks for that, Dermot. It's very late, isn't it? If it's okay, I might try and turn in." To be honest, I still hadn't felt the need for a wink of sleep but maybe if I actually tried to lie down, I'd crash. Fiona looked at me as though I had two heads, and Dermot smirked but stared at the floor. I became a little embarrassed and said, "Am I imposing? I can find somewhere else to stay. I have money."

She asked me curiously, "Jason, you've been in this life for ten days, right?"

"Ah, yeah."

"Have you slept once in that time?"

"No, but I thought I was just wired from the change."

Dermot interjected, "Afraid not, man, you'll never need sleep again." Something told me that was the case, so I wasn't as surprised as they seemed to expect.

"So your whole lives as vampires you've been awake?"

"Yeap, you'd be surprised the things you find time for when you don't spend half your day in a bed."

Fiona added, "He isn't wrong. I've learned a dozen languages, got numerous medical qualifications, and thought myself to play the violin. Dermot, however, uses his time more _mischievously_." Dermot flashed a cheeky grin, and Fiona threw her eyes to heaven. She continued, "Sometimes I find myself missing sleep. Several decades of consciousness can wear on you a bit."

"Wait, back up, did you say decades? How old are you?"

"Now Jason, it's very impolite to ask a lady her age, but if you must know, I was changed in 1969."

I did the math quickly in my new brain. That was fifty-two years, and she didn't look a day over twenty-five. I said as much, "But you couldn't be older than your mid-twenties."

"Good guess, I was twenty-five when I was changed."

I recalculated and realised that meant Fiona was seventy-seven years old in total. I was incredulous until the answer flashed into my mind, and I said, gobsmacked, "We don't age, do we?"

"No, vampires are immortal, Jason. None of us will ever die of any natural cause."

"So I'll be as I am now for eternity, sixteen forever."

"Yes."

I turned to Dermot. "And how old are you?"

"I was twenty when Fiona changed me back in '89."

"So you're forty-two."

"If you count the human years, most vampires don't."

I fell silent. I wasn't going to grow any older, change in any appreciable way for as long as I existed. I would live to watch Chloe grow up, have children, grandchildren, and die an old woman. All the while, I would look not a day older than I did when we parted. It was wrong; if anything, she should outlive me. I shook my head overwhelmed. Dermot had finished cleaning and stood at my side, putting a hand on my shoulder.

Fiona leant forward from the sofa and said, "Jason, I understand this is difficult. Take it from someone who knows. I've already watched my parents, my brother, and his wife pass away."

Dermot added, "All my siblings are middle-aged now, but I can't see them."

"So you see, Jason, it is hard sometimes, but you have to accept that this is what you are…and that your family is better off thinking you're dead, for their own safety. If Dermot waltzed up to one of his brothers now, how could he explain himself? And believe me, your sister is much better off living a normal human life. I'd give anything to have my humanity back; I would exchange eternity for a single human life in a second. It is why I hate taking human life; we've lost ours so now we take the lives of others to sustain this existence. It's wrong."

Dermot interjected gruffly, "Thanks, auntie."

"Well, you already know my feelings about the choices you've made." She returned her attention to me and said, "Are you okay?"

"I haven't decided yet. Probably not but there's nothing I can do about it anyways. So…if you didn't want this life, how'd you come to it? Were you changed by accident like I was?"

"No, not by accident. It happened in Derry where I was born. I was in a Catholic neighbourhood and as you know, there was a lot more prejudice back then. When the Troubles started, my sister-in-law, Éimear, was close to term with Dermot, her first child. She and my brother, Connor, decided they were best off moving away from the town to the Republic. They decided to move in with some relatives in Donegal. I was their midwife, so I had to go, too. I felt awful leaving our parents, but they were too stubborn to leave. Then, a few months later, after Dermot was born, the violence got out of hand, and I heard our street was overrun with brutal protests. I couldn't get in contact with my parents, so I decided to travel back to Derry to check in on them. I arrived late, and the man who brought me wouldn't go into the town. I was walking along a deserted street when I was grabbed by several men and dragged into an alley. They knew I was Catholic, and they started shouting all sorts of profanities at me. I was too petrified to say anything and then, they started beating me. I begged them to stop, but they didn't until they heard cracking bones. I was covered in blood and barely conscious when they just strolled away. It was like they'd just left a pub the way they acted. I don't know how long I was there, but it was still dark when she found me, a kindly woman named Siobhan. I remember her being stunningly beautiful but a very big woman with reddish eyes. She said she felt sorry for me. She said I was going to die, and she could end my suffering, or she could save me, though I might not like _how_ I would be saved. I was delirious and just told her to help me, and that's when I was changed. Siobhan helped me with the transition for the following year and even offered to let me join her coven. I said I'd find my own way."

"Did you feed on live humans back then?"

"Hmm, not even then. I wasn't even a vigilante. That's the lifestyle Siobhan's coven practices. She told me, though, if that didn't sit well with me that I could always feed on the blood of the deceased. She actually brought me bodies that she stole until I started working in a morgue in the north. I was there for a long while. A lot of people died during the Troubles and even after they eased, I managed to get by. Then, when I qualified as a doctor, I had access to the blood banks, which I found a lot less macabre than draining the dead."

"I can imagine, so what about your family?"

"My family believed I was kidnapped by loyalists and that I'd probably been killed and dumped somewhere. They immediately assumed I was dead and gave up hope of ever finding my body. They all died believing that."

I considered my next question carefully. "You hate this life, right?"

"To an extent, it has its advantages, but I would prefer to have a family, to grow old, to just live a normal human existence."

"Then, why did you change Dermot?"

She paused. She seemed a little upset, and I instantly felt awful. I was tactless. I should have broached the question a bit more delicately. Dermot was instantly at her side with an arm around her. He eyed me reproachfully, and I became even more embarrassed.

Then, Fiona smiled limply and said, "It's all right, Dermot."

I said apologetically, "I'm really sorry, Fiona. I didn't mean to be so pointed. I don't often think before I speak."

"Oh, don't apologise. It's not your question so much as the memories it invokes. Even though my family thought I was dead, I checked in on them every once and a while. I watched Dermot and his two younger brothers grow up and saw how proud and happy my brother was. It let me reconnect with them and the life I might've had. Well, suffice it to say that Dermot was as big a troublemaker in his human life as he is now, especially behind the wheel of a car."

"Hey, hey, I am a perfectly good driver." Dermot countered.

"Now you are, back then, not so much, dear," She patted his knee patronisingly and continued, "Anyhow, he decided to impress his friends by driving a narrow cliff-side road at ninety miles an hour I believe." Dermot shook his head but Fiona ignored him. "I'd followed him to keep an eye on him. I had no idea he had a few drinks on him as well. The moment I sensed the truth of the situation, it happened. He lost control, hit the railings, and over the cliff he went. I dove straight over after him. The car missed most of the rocks, but the impact on the water did him a lot of injuries. His friends were dead before the car even sank. Dermot was barely alive." She seemed to choke up and sobbed tearlessly. "I dragged him out of the car and swam with him back to shore. His heart was hardly beating, and I knew even if I got him to hospital, he wouldn't make it. I made a snap decision. I had helped deliver him, been with him through every moment of his life without him knowing, I couldn't let him die. I almost killed him, trying to change him. I'd never bitten a live human before, and it was so hard to stop. When his heart started beating a little stronger and some of his bones set, I brought him to my apartment in Belfast where I was staying at the time. It took five days for the change to end. He suffered throughout, I can still remember his screams, how he begged for my help, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't explain things until afterward. He didn't believe me at first. He tried to leave, but I'd already called Siobhan and her coven to help me control him. They're good friends, almost family. I don't know what I would've done without them. It was months before he calmed down enough to accept the truth. Even then, our relationship didn't really kick off straight away. It took us years to warm to each other, but he settled and although I tried to get him to follow my feeding habits, he'd gotten a taste for the habits of Siobhan's coven. He thinks he's a superhero."

"Whatever!"

"Delusions of grandeur I think. Well, we got to know each other over the past twenty years and when I moved down to a post in Limerick, he surprised me with the cottage, which because you were away so much, I had to finish." She prodded him light-heartedly.

Dermot concluded her narrative. "Well, I won't lie, not that I can lie to my auntie. I didn't like what I'd become or all the rules, or the hunger at first. I did blame her, but now I know I would prefer this existence to dying as a fool. She's right about the way I was at the start, too. Herself, Siobhan, Liam, and Maggie had to barricade me in a shack in the country. I escaped a few times, and there was mayhem. They got me back and just fed me packets of donated blood everyday until I was a year old. That's probably why I have such distaste for it."

"No, you just have no willpower."

"Hey, we can't all be saints and scholars."

"Why thank you for the compliment. Well, that's our story, Jason, in all its gruesome detail. Not as exciting as yours."

"I'd hardly say mine was exciting."

"I would," uttered Dermot.

"How do you know?"

"Oh, well along with my aunt's ability to see truth, she can also show people truth. She updates me when I come here on what she learns."

Fiona said, "Sorry, I hope you didn't want to tell it yourself. I do it without thinking nearly now."

"Not at all."

"Okay, well, I think Jason has many other questions, but he'd like time to freshen up. He did spend ten days on a mucky island."

That was really going to take some getting used to. Although, it wouldn't have bothered me as much as when I was human, I did notice that my pale skin was streaked with dirt. My hair, too, felt like a tangled mess, and I was sure there were bits of grass stuck in it. A little mortified, I replied, "Ah yeah, if you don't mind."

"Course not, the guestroom is the second door on your right, and the bathroom is the door at the end of the hallway. There should be some towels in the utility room, first door on your left."

"Thank you, you're really too kind."

"Don't be silly. You're one of us."

"I didn't make much of a first impression."

"Jason, believe me, we, well, I at least give most normal vampires a wide berth; the ones I usually come across are nomads passing through the country. They feed indiscriminately, no value for human life, and then they move on. They are far less civilised than even the vigilantes. Newborns especially are prone to indulge in this existence and follow it thereafter. You are different, Jason, unique in my experience; even I couldn't be around humans in my first year. I had to be contained, watched constantly. You managed to contain _yourself_, even if it was only for ten days. I know you were tempted, but you rose above it. I firmly believe if you hadn't thought of the criminal loophole, then you would've stayed put a lot longer. I know as well that you think less of yourself for killing those people. Perhaps, in part, that isn't a bad thing, but you have to remember, too, that you saved a life. I don't think many vampires, even civilised ones, can say that for themselves. I was hostile at first because I thought you were just another nomad. It's when I read the truth about you that I realised that you wanted to be different and not be controlled by your baser instincts."

"Thanks, Fiona." I replied, a little overwhelmed by her praise.

"You're welcome. By the way, there's blood in the fridge if you need it."

"Thanks, I think I'll last a few more days anyhow."

Dermot stood as I did and waving his hands, he said, "Hold up, you aren't saying that you're switching to the packaged diet?"

"I think that would be best for me."

"Ah, man, and I was looking forward to having a hunting partner."

Fiona backhanded his leg and said, "Don't pressure him, if he wants to live _my_ way, then he can." She looked very pleased with her nephew's dismay.

I tried to placate him. "Tell you what, I'll go with you on your hunting trips, and you can live off the land if you want, I'll just bring a packed lunch."

It came off more as a joke, which Fiona found very amusing, chortling as Dermot scowled at me light-heartedly. After that, I excused myself and found my way to the guestroom. I heard them keep talking after I left, about me and general catch-up as well. My first encounter with vampires had been barbaric. It was a little strange to see that some of them remained their human selves, that they behaved in a manner indistinguishable from any human family. In a way, it made me feel better than I had since this all began, at least I had some hope for this new life.

Showering didn't feel as refreshing as it had when I was human. There are things that you don't want to know that vampire senses can't help telling you. The water was warm I could tell but as it beat against me, I felt almost nothing. What I could tell was what was _in_ the water. I could smell things like calcium and iron but also contaminants like farm effluent and industrial runoff. It was worse to me than the strong whiff of chlorine you get from a swimming pool. I dried myself meticulously, trying to get every drop of the tainted water off my body, though it wasn't like it could make me ill. I slipped speedily from the bathroom to the guestroom; I still had my human sense of decency.

In the room, lying on the double bed, were a pair of blue denim jeans, a plain, red t-shirt, and a long-sleeved top. Dermot's I guessed. He was about my height, but his clothes weren't as fitted on me. I could smell detergent and knew Fiona had already thrown my clothes into the washing machine. I didn't don any shoes as even the hard, cold wooden floors didn't bother me. As I walked to the sitting room, I sensed that someone had left. Fiona sat on the sofa still. She was watching television, the news, but I was suddenly overwhelmed. The aroma of blood invaded my airways, and I felt like I'd go into a frenzy. I realised where it was coming from. Fiona was holding a metallic flask in one hand with the television control in the other.

She turned and immediately recapped the flask, saying, "Jason! Where are my manners? I'm so sorry. I'm really not used to having other vampires as guests, let alone newborns."

"No, no, I'm okay. It was just unexpected. You can keep drinking. I'll be all right now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, please, don't stop for me."

She unfastened the cap once more, and the smell hit me, but I braced myself and got over it. She eyed me warily only taking a sip.

She put the flask back on the coffee table and said, "You astonish me more and more by the second. If that had been Dermot twenty years back, he would have wrestled this from me."

"I don't know what to tell you. It isn't easy, but I can manage not to lose my mind when there's blood around."

"Jason, your eyes, have you looked in the mirror?"

"No, why?"

"They're gone dark again, burgundy. I'd say you'll be starving by the morning."

"Oh, so I'll need to feed." I replied glumly.

"Jason, I have a large enough supply of blood, and I can always get more. Take what you need."

"Hehe, am I the only one who gets weirded out by your truth-seeing?"

"Yes, most people are much more disconcerted."

I zoomed into the kitchen and found Fiona's huge, American-style fridge-freezer. Inside were ten shelves of blood bags stacked tightly together. Each one contained about a pint of blood, hardly enough to do me the evening, but I felt guilty taking more.

Again, seeing the reason behind my hesitation, Fiona said, "Jason, drink six bags, that's roughly equivalent to the blood volume of the average human, it should keep you going for a few days at least."

"But I fed on three guys tonight who were a lot bigger than the average human. I don't wanna drink it all on you."

"Jason, that was just because of your ten-day fast, your hunger should start to calm down from here on out."

"But Fiona, still…"

"No buts, doctor's orders."

"Okay, but I don't care how hungry I am, I'm not taking anymore till the end of the week."

"We'll see."

I huffed perhaps a little petulantly but only because I could see Fiona's victorious grin out through the crack of open space between the door and its hinges. I slid one bag out from a middle shelf and examined it. Seeing no obvious way to open it, I decided it might be simpler just to bite into it. That proved to be the messy option. The plastic tore as easily as running a chainsaw through cotton. I lapped up the blood, but a good portion of it ran down my front. I didn't notice, though, as I drank one bag after another dry. I got a bit too into it, and I pulled apart the last bag having grabbed it too eagerly. I decided Dermot had a point about donated blood. It was cold obviously, but it was also off, leaving behind a stale aftertaste. In reality, this blood was still useful, but my vampiric taste buds were sensitive to even the slightest degradation. That didn't matter much, though, as I slurped up the last drops that had remained in the bag.

Then, a hiss escaped my lips instinctually as the animalistic side of my mind sensed a competitor in close proximity. Seeing Fiona's still-triumphant grin, I gained back a degree of control.

I looked down at myself.

I was covered almost from head to toe in blood; it had even pooled around my feet. I felt it smeared all over my face, and it dripped from my fingertips. I had actually drunk nine pints of blood, counting the crumpled bags on the floor around me. I stared at the ground in humiliation. _What kind of guest am I? I take a sizeable chunk out of her blood rations and destroyed her kitchen and the clothes she's given me_.

She sensed my shame and before I could even utter a syllable and said, "I don't want to hear it. No apologies. I'd have been surprised if you even managed to drink only six pints. I thought you'd at least drink twelve and make much more of a mess."

"I couldn't control myself. It's just…there's so much."

"I know, I lost my mind the first time I saw that much blood just sitting there for the taking. You get used to it. When you get out of the newborn stage, maybe you'll even be able to drink it calmly out of a mug like I do."

"I'll clean it up. I don't care if I'm a guest."

"Oh, too right you will. Then, go change those clothes. I'll have a new set waiting."

The blood wasn't that hard to get off the tiled floor, but I had to resist the urge to lick it off. Sure enough, Fiona had another set of clothes for me in the guestroom that were almost exactly the same as the ones I'd been wearing. I dropped my bloodied clothes into the utility room and took a seat on the same armchair as before.

She watched me as I sat down and said, "Your eyes are a much healthier shade. You feel better?"

"Yeah, much. Where's Dermot by the way?"

"He went to Tralee to hunt. He didn't get much chance to feed tonight as he was covering your tracks."

"Oh crap, he shouldn't have gone hungry for that."

"Nonsense, he's no newborn. A few hours won't make any difference to him."

"I guess not…"

She suddenly said, cutting into the end of my sentence, "So you haven't told me about your ability."

I looked at her bemused and replied, "What could I tell you that you don't already know?"

"Well, I suppose it's not what you can tell me but rather what you can show me."

It didn't take long to understand what she was implying.

I shook my head and said, "Sorry Fiona, but the only way I can demonstrate my ability would be for you to either really upset me or hurt me, and I doubt that would end well for you."

"I know, but the sensory side of your ability can be summoned without physical or emotional distress as a catalyst."

"But I can only tell you what I see, not show you."

"You see a sort of truth, Jason, the composition of substance at its most basic levels. For instance," she reached down to the coffee table and picked up her flask and continued. "Whilst I might know that the blood I'm drinking has red blood cells in it, I cannot visualise that truth, only know it. Your extra senses are infallible and tell you the simplest truths about the world around you, what it looks like, what it's made up of. By doing this, you know the truth and therefore, I can _see_ what you know. Do you understand how this will work?"

"I think I do. You want me to look at something with my extra sense."

"Yes, go ahead, look at the blood."

I concentrated.

I formed a tendril as always that weaved its way through the air and enveloped the object of my focus. The blood was cold but warming to room temperature. It was slightly more viscous than fresh blood and was indeed degrading. As I delved deeper, I found the red blood corpuscles, their fat rims and concave centres making them look like spongy wheels. Of course, the cells were inactive, and some had ruptured. I could see more structures within the blood. Platelets drifted aimlessly along with the occasional white blood cell. As I magnified my view, I saw molecular structures. DNA fragments snailed about, bumping into cell walls and other DNA strands. Haemoglobin complexes spilled from the punctured corpuscles into the surrounding plasma. I zoomed out suddenly and returned to the macro world. Fiona seemed to snap back with me. She looked quite stunned.

She said, amazed, "Wow, that is quite something."

"Yeah, it is. Saved my life a lot less than it's taken life, though."

"Your friend-you blame yourself still for his death and those who died with him. You know Mrs. O' Reardon was right, the situation was beyond your control."

"Just barely, I should have fought harder, and even if it was, I still created it."

"I know it is difficult to accept, Jason, but lack of control of one's abilities is not an issue that is unique to you. Many vampires struggle with their powers for decades or centuries even, and many have abilities as potentially harmful as yours."

"Thank you but that isn't much consolation. In fact, if I am to spend centuries trying to master this _power_ I have, then I probably should go back to Mutton Island, permanently."

"You give yourself too little credit; you're more in control than you think."

"When I'm calm."

"You're becoming emotional as we speak, angry, upset, grief-stricken, remorseful, regretful, are you tearing my home to shreds yet?"

I was becoming emotional. I was angry that I had taken life so blithely to fuel my own. Grief and remorse seeped in for my losses, my best friend, my family. Regret and misery pervaded me because of Chloe, how I had been forced to leave her alone and that even now, I couldn't trust myself to be near her. Fiona was right, though, the blackness was pulsing away insistently inside my head, and I kept it hemmed in. I could easily unleash my pent-up emotions and wreak havoc like I'd done when Danny's coven attacked me in my house. Then, something occurred to me. When I'd mentioned Danny, Fiona said that he had Sophia to control him. Had she met them before? Did she know them? It would make me wary if she did.

I turned to her and asked as casually as I could, "Fiona, what do you know of Danny's coven?"

She smiled at me knowingly, and too late I realised I couldn't hide my suspicions from her. She didn't seem to be offended, though, and replied, "Don't fret, Jason, you're right to be suspicious. After all, I have to meet people to know truths about them. I've never met Danny. I can see only vague slivers of truth about him through you. However, I have met the rest of the Genoan Coven. Sophia, Carina, and Julian, they have a long, long history."

"How long?"

"Sophia and Carina are first cousins, and they started as nomads, they were changed some time in the second century."

I blinked as confusion contorted my face. I made sure I'd heard her right and asked, "The second century? Roman times? Are you saying they're both over eighteen hundred years old?"

"I wasn't kidding when I said we live forever. Mind you, they are pretty old, even amongst our kind."

"Surely there are vampires who've lived longer if we're all immortal."

"Oh, there are, but most vampires, especially in times past, were very uncivilised and territorial. Some vampires don't even make it passed the newborn stage before being killed by another. Newborns especially will destroy any other vampire if they get between them and their food."

"Okay, so I take it they played it safe all these years."

"Hardly, they are perhaps the most felonious amongst us. It is a wonder that they have not been caught and punished yet…"

"Sorry, you and Dermot keep alluding to some vampires who are not to be messed with, whose attention you don't want to attract. Who are they?"

"We're referring to the Volturi, the most powerful coven of all. They are our version of police, our law enforcement, but they act more like royalty."

"And what laws do they enforce exactly?"

"There are very few rules to this life. Many laws such as "not killing conspicuously" have become somewhat dated, considering not many humans still suspect the existence of vampires and therefore, our kills are often passed off as animal-related. Still, out of habit, many vampires clean up after themselves. Ireland's one of the few places where that law is more pertinent. As a whole, all our laws boil down to one simple directive: keep the secret. We cannot show ourselves in the sunlight, we cannot hunt by day in populated areas, when we create more of our kind, we must be responsible for them and teach them the rules. We must do everything we can to conceal our existence from human knowledge and if we must live among them, then we must live inconspicuously. Any disregard for our cover is punished swiftly and decisively."

I was a little perturbed-no, I was afraid. All the things I'd done since becoming a vampire, showing myself to my sister, that family in Shannon, standing in front of a train, and killing very unsubtly.

I asked weakly, "And have the things I've done attracted the Volturi's attention?"

"No, your tracks are well covered. Nothing you've done has caused the humans to suspect anything."

I breathed a sigh of relief that didn't bring any, the breathing was still very discomfiting.

I said with the relief prevalent in my tone, "Thank God. So, why is it the Volturi have such power?"

"Numbers and abilities. They are by far the largest coven by number, and their leader, Aro, searches out vampires with unique and powerful gifts. Many among his "Guard" have powerful abilities unsurpassed by any in our world. I have not met a member of the Volturi, but I know much of them through Siobhan. She specifically remembers the "Witch Twins" as they're known, Alec and Jane. Alec can make you insensate, blind, and deaf so you can't fight back and feel nothing, even as you're killed. Jane can create the illusion of immense pain that completely overwhelms her victims. Demetri is another, he is the ultimate tracker, he can find anyone he wants. There are others. Siobhan knows Aro himself, their leader, has an ability and Marcus, another Volturi leader, has one, too."

"So what history does the Genoan Coven have with the Volturi?"

"A lot, right back to their beginnings. Sophia was changed by a member of the Romanian Coven, sworn enemies of the Volturi, because he found her incredibly beautiful and hoped she'd become his mate. She, however, did not feel anything for him and resented what he'd done to her. He took her lack of gratitude as an insult and so turned her first cousin, Carina, and set her upon the rest of Sophia's family. Sophia did not feel hatred for Carina, only pity for what she'd have to live with. When she discovered her ability, she went to Romania, seeking revenge. Yet, she found quite the opposite. She was greeted on her arrival at their castle by a handsome male vampire named Lucian. She fell in love with him on sight. Carina also found a mate amongst them, his name was Eugen. Once they told them why they'd come, they immediately had their former coven mate destroyed. They all lived blissfully together in their castle for nearly three hundred years. Then, around 500 A.D., the Romanian Coven was ousted by the Volturi. They destroyed all their castles and fortresses and killed off most of the coven. In the end, the survivors were dispersed far and wide. Lucian sent Sophia and Carina away before the battle, but they didn't go far. The Volturi captured them and their mates. Aro loved Sophia for her uniqueness, and he sensed that Carina, too, might be special. He offered them both a chance to join them or lose their mates. Sophia hesitated too long, and Carina was too petrified to answer. In the end, both Lucian and Eugen were executed, and Sophia and Carina were banned from ever returning to Italy."

"Harsh but I don't feel sorry for them."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"Does Carina have an ability?"

"Yes, conviction manipulation. She is my opposite. I am a truth-seer; she is a truth fabricator. She can make anyone believe almost anything is true, depending on how strong-willed her target is."

"So, she hypnotises people."

"Simply put, yes."

"Why didn't she use it against the Volturi?"

"She spent three hundred years lounging about a castle. She never developed her ability beyond creating the simplest of delusions. Minds as strong as the Volturi's would not be swayed by her then pitiful ability."

"But now?"

"Now, the Volturi covet both of them."

"What is it that Sophia can do?"

"She creates potent physical barriers. She could make a sheet of paper harder than steel and can ward off attack by creating an iron bubble around herself and others nearby. It is vaguely similar to your ability but far less versatile. She is your opposite in the sense that she requires emotional calm to stabilise her barriers. She has disciplined herself well over the years, for her failure to form a protective shield was what cost the lives of Lucian and Eugen. She has never forgiven herself."

"I see. It makes sense of what happened in my house. She's not that powerful."

"To you, perhaps, when you are consumed with rage, but under normal circumstances, she could keep any of us at bay. She can also use her shield as an offensive weapon and pummel people with it."

That didn't give me much pause. I believed Fiona was overestimating her and that if we met again, I could handle her.

I asked, "So what happened to them after the fall of the Romanians?"

"They became nomads known for their delinquency. They'd hunt humans by day, walk in the sunlight, just to stick it to the Volturi and because of Sophia's shields and Carina's mind games, they were almost impossible to catch. Aro loved them too much, though, and usually only ever gave them a slap on wrist. Caius, the third Volturi leader, has wanted them dead from the beginning, but Aro will not relent. He was enraged when both of them were suspected of creating Immortal Children and later for travelling to Mexico and getting involved in the Southern Vampire Wars, both of which I'll explain some other time. Even then, Aro let them off, as he had no proof of their activities, largely because potential witnesses conveniently forgot who they were. Most recently, on a visit to the States about ten years back, it is thought they unleashed a hoard of newborns in Atlanta, which the Volturi had to contain. The newborns could not name their creators, though. It was in the US that Carina found Julian, an Italian immigrant working as a cleaner in a fast food joint. She fell for him and saw that he shared her feelings. She explained what they were and that he could join them. She created a delusion that let Julian think he was in a pleasant dream whilst the change ran its course."

"I wouldn't have minded a happy illusion during my change."

"Nor would have I, but imagine feeling the change for three to five days. It is excruciating beyond words, the worst you will ever suffer, and it becomes your sharpest memory of your human existence. Anyhow, after he'd settled out of the newborn phase, they moved back to Europe. They wandered around Britain for a time. I heard rumours that they'd challenged a Scottish coven near Edinburgh to try and oust them and gain territory of their own. Unfortunately for them, the Scottish coven called in some friends, two other covens from Glasgow and Liverpool along with several nomads. Sophia's coven had just dived into the Irish Sea when they'd caught up with them. She brought them here with a similar ambition in mind."

"Why would she try to claim territory in Scotland?"

"Because they cannot return to their former homeland and Romania brings back too many memories for them. They've tried many times to expel a coven from a territory on mainland Europe but failed. Each coven has too many allies and most European vampires have close connections with the Volturi. It's become too risky for them. Sophia's considered other parts of the world, but she's determined to lay claim to somewhere in Europe. Ireland is ripe for the picking."

"Why?"

"Besides Siobhan's coven, Dermot, myself, and you, there are no other vampires in Ireland, and nomads rarely pass through. Siobhan tends to keep to the Dublin region, so that leaves the rest of Ireland open for Sophia to set up shop."

I sensed distaste in her tone. I asked, "This wouldn't exactly be ideal to you, would it?"

"Of course it would, I would love to have a few narcissistic, ruthless, bloodthirsty, Italian has-beens as my neighbours!"

"Hmm, when you put it like that, it sounds so much more appealing."

"Believe me, it wouldn't be. I've met them only once. I heard them lurking about the hospital in December of last year. I confronted them, and Sophia tried to placate me with her oh so charming manner. In the end, I settled for them just leaving the city. I heard about all the deaths that happened in Galway and Clare. It was gut-wrenching to think I'd just sent them away to kill elsewhere."

"It would've just been someone else anyhow, you couldn't have prevented their deaths."

"Perhaps not."

"So, where does Danny come into all this?"

"Haven't you figured it out?" I shook my head in the negative, and she continued, "Danny is Sophia's new mate."

I was flabbergasted and strangely amused. It seemed odd that a woman close to two millennia old would choose to be with a scumbag like Danny. To each their own I supposed, but Fiona cleared it up, sensing my questions. "She sees a lot of Lucian in him, but I'd say it's more looks than personality. After our encounter, she went to Galway and planned to prey on some teenagers in the juvenile detention facility, but she saw Danny out in the yard and could only think of Lucian. She was overwhelmed with love and a desperate longing. So, she swiped him right up out of there and offered him a new life, much like Julian. He accepted gleefully. Since then, they've been prowling the countryside for easy meals."

"Do you think they're going to lay claim to Galway and Clare?"

"Limerick, too, I imagine. As time and distance increases since our last meeting, it becomes harder to pin down absolute truths about them and about their plans. I sense, though, that they might try to include Kerry and Cork as well. That would give them a massive feeding ground, encompassing three large cities and hundreds of towns and villages."

"But you live and work in those counties. You don't think…"

"Exactly what I'm afraid of. If they choose to remove us, then there won't be much we can do."

"We can fight."

"With Sophia and Carina, we would most certainly lose."

"With me, you might win."

"Carina can still affect you, Jason. She failed to act once, and it cost her her second love. She won't falter again."

"But you can show the truth to people, right?"

"Yes…"

"So maybe you are the antidote to her ability."

"…Intriguing…I might be able to find that out. One moment…"

She zoned out and had that glazed look in her eyes. She still looked in my direction but as though she was looking through me. She was still for many minutes. Then, she raised an eyebrow. Her eyes widened, and her pupils dilated as shock filled her expression. She brought a hand up to cover her mouth. Then, her eyes refocused and they lay upon me, intent but sympathetic.

Her behaviour immediately had me worried, and I leaned in and asked, "Fiona, what have you seen?"

"Something so vile, how could they? Oh no, poor Sorcha."

"Fiona, what are you on about?'

"I must get back to Limerick. Sorcha is in critical condition, and she might not make it. With your permission, Jason, I could change her."

I moved my lips to speak to no avail for a moment and then, I stuttered, "What? Where did…change her? I can't make that decision for her. I barely know her."

"Well you must, she may soon be dead. And Jason…"

"Yes?"

"You must return to Clare, to Shannon where your sister's staying."

"Why? What's happened?"

"A decision has already been made for Chloe."


	7. Chapter 7 Reprisal

7. REPRISAL

I was going to kill him. I was going to restrain him with the blackness and burn him alive, and Sophia and Carina could join him. They would suffer greatly, and I wouldn't settle for a single iota less. For several minutes, I was in shock, finding it too hard to swallow what Fiona had told me.

Danny had found Chloe.

He'd broken into my granduncle's house. He'd killed my relatives. He'd snatched Chloe from her bed. He'd bit her and left her alone to suffer the change in a wooded area not far from Cratloe. I didn't know the area well. When I'd come to Limerick after meeting Dermot, it had been my first visit in five years. Cratloe was on the road from Shannon to Limerick from which I hadn't ventured far on my last trip. I'd buried the money I'd taken only several hundred feet off the dual carriageway. Still, I remembered seeing a wooded area covered with spruce and a smattering of deciduous trees.

I'd already traversed the entire northern half of Kerry before turning sharply east at Tarbert. I raced along the N69 to Limerick faster than human eyes could see. Then, with Shannon opposite me on the far shore of the estuary, I dove in. Traversing the few kilometres of water would be a piece of cake after the more than choppy waters of the Atlantic. I came ashore near town with only a line of trees to block my arrival from the view of a nearby row of houses. From there, I zoomed east again, following the dual carriageway until it brought me to Cratloe.

Fiona had practically ordered me to find Chloe and bring her back, nothing more. I swore though that if Danny made an appearance, I'd rip him to pieces. Fiona had said she'd consider changing Sorcha if I allowed it. I still had no answer for her but told her to bring her back to the cottage and then I'd decide. I remembered her vaguely speaking of a truth she'd sensed from Sorcha, that she, too, was special. Even as a human, her body temperature was running on average at about one hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit. From our few encounters, I remembered her being bossy and hot-tempered, quick to take offence and to argue. She was a constant strain on her elderly parents and being the youngest, she'd been spoiled a lot, which only exacerbated her self-centredness. I didn't know what this special gift she might have could have been, but Fiona could only grasp at it weakly before it escaped her grip like a slippery fish.

Yet, she'd sensed Chloe's predicament very clearly because Chloe was experiencing it very clearly. Fiona didn't say, but I knew she must be in horrific pain.

As I passed the village itself and followed the dual carriageway for another kilometre or so, I found what I was looking for, a few hills shrouded in a dense woodland of imposing spruce and eerie, gnarly beech and ash trees. A narrow field separated the tree line from the road. With a few quick bounds, I traversed the distance and stood between two young spruce trees, gazing into the gloom. As a human, this forest would have been far more intimidating. The night-time sky was thick with clouds, and a dense fog hung low in the air amongst the trees and grass behind me. However, as a vampire, this forest was no more intimidating than a city park. I could peer past the obscuring fog and see the bare undergrowth of bramble and alder ensnare each other. I watched the forest's few nocturnal denizens scampering away, sensing my presence. A feral cat with a shaggy coat peered out at me from behind a nearby tree trunk and hissed, baring teeth, before shooting off into the thicket.

My anger fuelled the blackness to a degree almost as intense as when I'd tried to kill myself jumping off a cliff. My eyes paled in comparison to what my sixth sense was showing me. I stretched it out from me in the form of a bubble, once more, combing the forest for any sign of Chloe. I occasionally touched off fabric with my mind but quickly ascertained that someone had just forgotten an item of clothing after a wild night. I came across other paraphernalia of outdoor partying: food wrappers, beer cans, vodka bottles, and the odd syringe. I had searched everything within my sight, so I stepped forward and the bubble shifted forward with me. I heard more terrified animal sounds as I marched onward. Thorny bramble scrapped across my marble-like skin, but I felt nothing and just ploughed through the undergrowth like a rolling boulder over grass blades. At the edge of my bubble, I sensed a small clearing.

My sense of smell suddenly kicked in. I detected familiar odours. Danny's was most intense, but he'd carried the slight whiff of Sophia and Carina along with him. There was a fourth odour that caused me to cease breathing.

Blood, Chloe's blood.

The blackness traced the odour molecules I smelt like a million tiny stepping stones. As they grew denser, I knew the direction I needed to go. She was somewhere near the edge of the clearing. I zoomed towards it as fast as my legs would carry me. I kept holding my breath despite how disconcerting it was to be unable to smell. Then, I heard it as I penetrated deeper into the forest, Chloe's agonised screams. I fought back the urge to wail over my failure to protect her, she needed me to be strong now. Even stronger than I was when I ran away, for now, I had to have the resolve to stay by her side without hurting her.

As I reached the clearing, I realised that all the odour trails converged on one point to the west of it. Sure enough, I pinned down her location with the smell of her blood, the sound of her cries, and the fading warmth of her broken body, the latter which I sensed with the blackness. My eyes pierced into the forest where she lay. I saw her legs twitch and seize violently, but her upper half was concealed behind a tree.

I couldn't stand it.

She whimpered almost endlessly, only stopping to let out shrill cry. She seemed to be trying to form words, but they drowned in the volume of her screams. It was a tremendous effort just to move in her direction. As I rounded the tree trunk, she must have heard me approach. Her sobs increased, and she made every effort to curl into a ball, probably thinking Danny had come back for her. Then, I saw her broken arms, her bleeding throat, and her pallid face. She'd scrunched her eyes up tight, but I uttered her name, and they shot open.

If anything, her eyes conveyed a relief, happiness, but her body continued to writhe involuntarily. She tried to reach a hand out to me, but spasms travelled up and down her arm, and she was forced to pull back. I kneeled beside her, taking her hand myself. Her sobs loudened, and she gripped my hand very tightly for a human child. My face felt like a layer of ice above boiling water. My emotions pounded away inside like an erupting geyser. If I were human, I imagined I'd look just as stone-faced but with tears streaming down.

I smelled her blood then, but it was different, something inside of it, Danny's venom. My sixth sense coursed through her, but I sensed only a small fraction of the venom that I'd received present in her system. This fact didn't matter to me as much as my sister's convulsions, her struggles to breathe, her streaming tears. I knelt there, helpless to do anything for her. I couldn't even lay a comforting hand on her for fear my instincts would take over, and I'd kill her. I struggled to get over it, as I'd soon need to move her.

I was distraught. How could I have let this happen? I should have been stronger and stayed to protect her. She was only nine, and I couldn't imagine any way she could suffer more than to become like me. Even not taking into account the horrible pain she was suffering, she would probably find being a newborn at least as hard as Dermot had. She was so young and despite her maturity, this existence would overwhelm her. And I thought being stuck as my sixteen-year old self for eternity would suck but to be nine forever would be a whole other deal.

I think she sensed my guilt, for she managed to utter, "No-ttt…fault."

I couldn't help but spill my guts to her, "It is. This is all me. Danny came into our lives because of me. You would never have been hurt otherwise. I'm so sorry Chloe." Her eyes conveyed a hint of sympathy through her pain.

She struggled once more to speak, "What's…ha-happen-ing…to…me?"

I considered my response. Perhaps Fiona could help her. I would bring Chloe back to the cottage, Fiona would fix her up, and _nothing_ was going to happen to her. So, I replied, "Danny's bite just made you very sick. But I met a doctor who knows about these things, and I'm gonna take you to her now."

"You-you…don't look…sick. You…look diff-rent."

"I feel much better now, but I'll always look like this from now on."

"A-at least…you're not…ugly an-y-more."

I gave her a slight smile. Beneath the agony, she was still herself, but still, it was hard to ignore what was most obvious. As I reached out to pick her up whilst straining to hold my breath, I heard something. Something was trampling through the undergrowth far too fast to be an animal or human. I went rigid when I realised whatever it was was following the trail I'd used to find Chloe. It was most certainly a vampire from the speed, but I sensed they were travelling slower than they could.

The blackness enveloped the vampire as it burst into my sensory bubble. It wasn't Danny, but it was a female, so it could have been Sophia or Carina. I tensed myself and prepared to meet her head-on as she burst into the clearing. Then, something else caught my attention. She was carrying something, a body that was limp but still living, a human. I was bewildered, but I did not ease my readiness to pounce at the first opportunity. As they broke through the nearby undergrowth, one foot jutted forward, but I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw who it was. Fiona had arrived carrying Sorcha, still wearing her white coat.

She said straight away, "I'm sorry, Jason, there was no time."

I saw Sorcha was convulsing in much the same way as Chloe. Her condition though seemed to be much worse. Her eyes rolled in their sockets, and her breaths were quick and shallow. Fiona had to apply a strong grip to prevent her from convulsing out of her arms.

I said disapprovingly, "I don't think this was the best choice for her."

"Not better than death?"

"We'll have to see, won't we? How'd you get her out of the hospital?"

"I pronounced her dead despite the fact she had a weak heartbeat. Had I not injected her with venom, then she would've lasted only a few more minutes."

"Aren't your bosses gonna ask questions when they find her body's disappeared?"

"Perhaps but I can come up with excuses later. Right now, I imagine Chloe needs looking at."

She placed Sorcha lightly on the ground. As we walked over to her, I asked,

"Did you say you injected her with venom?"

"Yes, I think it's less traumatic to get a needle to the heart than having your throat ripped open."

"I suppose when you put it like that."

Chloe saw both of us round the tree and jerked away from Fiona. I put my hands in front me out flat in a calming gesture and said, "It's okay, Chloe. It's okay. This is the doctor I was telling you about."

Fiona said amiably, "Hello, Chloe, it's been a long time since I've last seen you. You probably don't remember me but believe me, I'm here to help. Is it okay if I come nearer? Your brother will be here the whole time."

She relented somewhat but stretched out a tremulous arm towards me. I worked up the will to hold her hand whilst keeping my breath in. Fiona looked her over for a few moments. She then turned Chloe's head away from her to examine the bite wound. She closed her eyes and shook her head briefly before smiling once more as she released Chloe's head.

She maintained her friendly tone saying, "Thank you, Chloe, now I just need to talk to Jason for a minute. We'll just be on the other side of the tree."

She resisted, gripping my hand tighter, but I patted her shoulder in a reassuring way. She shook her head not wanting me to go.

I said, "Hey, hey, it's okay, Chloe-bear. I'm not goin' anywhere this time. I'll be back as soon as I've had a word with the doctor. After that, I promise I'll be straight back. Okay?"

She looked frightened but nodded affirmatively. I parted from her with a smile and followed Fiona back into the clearing. She looked aghast and shook her head a lot.

I spoke lowly, but I found, as a vampire, I could speak at a volume and pace inaudible to human ears, "What's the prognosis?"

"Not good, my Lord, this Danny is a vile creature, cruel beyond belief."

"Why? What has he done besides biting her and leaving her out here?"

"The bite wound is shallow, Jason."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Danny intentionally bit her lightly, only releasing his venom into the surface veins, and he clearly did not bite for long. That means that there's only a small amount of venom in her system, and it's probably spreading very thin."

Realisation wasn't long coming. "So the change will happen very slowly."

"Five days minimum, perhaps even a week."

I gasped and perhaps laughed for a moment in a hysterical kind of way. My baby sister would suffer the most immense pain, the most agonising torture I had ever known for every single moment for the next week. My mind went into overdrive, imagining all the horrible things I would do to avenge her. What evil could conceive doing this to a nine-year old child? Without realising, I started pacing, clenching and unclenching my fists. Fiona watched me warily, but she understood my anger, she shared it to a lesser degree.

Then, she said something I didn't comprehend. "I hope she is not too young or this could end badly for us."

I eyed her as though she had two heads. "Of course she's too young, but what has that to do with us?"

"If the Volturi find out about her, they may come here. They'll have to decide whether she qualifies as an Immortal Child."

"What? I don't understand."

"The Immortal Children were a plague back in early medieval times. Vampires longed for children but couldn't have any of their own. So, they turned human children, but young children cannot live under the Volturi's rules for one simple reason: because they aren't mature enough to follow them. They are frozen permanently at the developmental state they were in when they were changed. They don't understand that we cannot show ourselves in daylight, that they can't just run up to crowds of humans and feed on them. Chloe is nine, so she may be mature enough, once she's settled out of the newborn stage, to live like the rest of us."

"But if the Volturi deem that she isn't?"

"…All Immortal Children are destroyed if they cannot control themselves, as are their creators and since we can't prove anything about the Genoan Coven, we will be seen as her guardians and held responsible."

I looked at her completely flabbergasted, as though I'd been winded. Danny and the others knew what would happen. They knew we would never abandon Chloe and that we'd take her in. The Volturi would not tolerate her existence and destroy her along with the rest of us. That would leave them with free reign over Ireland. Her long change was probably a bonus, revenge for Julian.

I said frantically, "Fiona, there must be something you can do to stop this?"

"Short of killing her, there's nothing that can be done. The change has started, and we must let it run its course."

"Could…could we suck the venom out?"

"A good idea, if either of us were strong enough to do it. If you bite her and suck out the venom, once it's gone, you still won't be able to stop. I guarantee it. I wouldn't even trust myself to try that."

"Well if she becomes one of us, she might die anyways, so what difference does it make?" I shouted that, but I hope I said it too quickly for Chloe's sake.

"A lot, Jason, there's still a good chance that Chloe will come through this in one piece, and the Volturi won't be interested in her progress until after the newborn stage is over in a year's time. So, we have more time that way."

"I-I just…I can't stand the idea of her being like this for seven days straight."

"I know…but we could speed up the process."

"How?"

"I can pump her full of venom, which will hurry up the change considerably; it could happen in as little as two days. Then, well, only you can be sure if this would work."

"What will work?"

"Your ability, you hastened your own change. Why couldn't you do it for someone else?"

It never occurred to me before. I hadn't even thought about it since, probably because I was also reminded of the immense pain. Still, it felt more like a reflexive action when it happened, my body using the best means available to defend itself. By speeding my change, I had saved my own life and destroyed one member of the Genoan Coven. Had I remained human for days more, I couldn't imagine that I'd have held up the blackness long enough and eventually, they would have gotten to me.

Fiona added, "If you can do it, then the change goes from days to minutes for Chloe, and Sorcha."

"I don't know if I can just will myself to do it. It might have been an act of self-preservation, totally instinctual."

"It couldn't hurt to try."

"I suppose not, do you have the venom ready?"

She reached for a small case from her coat pocket. Inside was a syringe held in a shaped padding. It was empty, but Fiona suddenly brought the needle to her face, opened her mouth, and jabbed it under her tongue. I winced, but she seemed completely at ease.

She said reassuringly as she retracted the now full syringe, "Don't fret. The venom glands replace the human saliva glands once you become a vampire. This is the best spot to draw venom from. It doesn't hurt so much, just a tad uncomfortable."

"Well, hopefully none of us will need to do it again."

"Let's hope. Perhaps you should bring Chloe out here."

I nodded solemnly, realising I was condemning my sister to an existence I abhorred. My only other choice was to kill her either in a vain attempt to save her by excising the poison in her veins or quickly and mercifully, so she would not suffer any further. The former was not appealing and as for the latter, I was too selfish to end her life. She was all I had left, and I refused to lose her, too. I came around the tree trunk once more with my breath held. I knelt down and slipped my arms under her gently, trying not to jostle her too much. I laid her down in the clearing opposite to Sorcha. She saw her cousin writhing in pain and became very upset. I knelt down beside her once more, blocking Sorcha from view.

I said soothingly, "Don't worry, Chloe, it's all gonna be all right. I'll take care of you."

She saw Fiona approaching her with the needle, and a look of terror crossed her face, she cried, "No…no…please…don't."

"Chloe, I won't lie. This will hurt, a lot…but it's the difference between a week of pain and a few minutes. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes…Jason?"

"Yes, Chloe?"

"Wha-what are you?"

"…I'll explain everything once this is over. Are you ready?"

She nodded. Fiona then said to her, "Okay, Chloe, I'm going to inject this into your arm, okay?"

She nodded again. This time very vigorously. She was panicking, which was worsening her convulsions. I held her hand as tight as I could without hurting her.

As Fiona administered the venom, Chloe said lowly, "So…so cold." She was looking at my hand when she said it. Then, her face shot sideways until she was staring at the sky. She went rigid. Then, she shook and shook more until it was as though she was having a seizure. She screamed, "BURNING! I'M BURNING!"

I said, trying to hold her down, "Chloe, calm down, you aren't burning."

"PUT IT OUT!"

I concentrated on the blackness through my sobs. I was trying to imagine what I wanted. I focused on my memories as though showing the blackness what I wanted it to do. As it fed on my emotions, the bubble collapsed inward until it encased me and then, wriggling tendrils found their way up Chloe's arm and into her pores. They swam in her bloodstream and found what I sought. The venom molecules, millions of them, coasting between her cells, making changes that were still hard to comprehend in their complexity. I watched them pierce cell walls and instigate the creation of the two extra pairs of chromosomes. These, in turn, began changing her physiology. It was an intricate and wondrous process, but I was not here to observe. I tried to do as the blackness had done before of its own accord.  
But I couldn't.

I found myself prompting it with memories, hoping it would just go into action on its own. Nothing happened. The blackness swirled ineffectually amongst the venom molecules.

Chloe roared, "HELP ME! PLEASE!" Her voice was pleading.

"I'm trying, please hold on, please."

"WHY AREN'T YOU HELPING ME?" She shrieked.

"I am. I'm trying."

Fiona watched me apprehensively. She'd pumped Chloe full of venom and if I didn't succeed, she'd be in this much pain for two days, not much better than the original scenario.

Chloe suddenly uttered something feebly, "You need…help."

"What do you…?"

My free hand gripped my temple. I felt horrible, in such emotional pain that it hurt physically. Everything I had felt when I was first attacked by Danny in school, during my mother's death, my change, the death of my father and brother, when I tried to commit suicide, even when my best friend died all came rushing back. The memories flashed in my mind in piercing detail, and each image was worse than the next. Somehow, despite how painful I knew those events were, they felt worse now. My facial muscles bunched together as my hand found its way over my forehead. It was hard to open my eyes but squinting through the pain, I saw Chloe focusing upon me, despite the agonising rigours of the change. It soon became apparent what she was doing, she had the ability to calm me down, to temper the blackness, but she could also do just the opposite.

As my anger seared through parts of my mind whilst misery paralysed others, I saw that Chloe was refining the memories she was targeting. They were those of my change that surfaced most frequently, especially those of how I accelerated it. They came like still-frames one after another. The event became even clearer in my head.

Then something clicked.

I knew the pain, the exact kind that had triggered that reaction. I concentrated on it, filling my mind with those excruciating last moments of my human life. There could have been no better prompt. The microfilaments formed. They hooked onto the venom. They gathered it as one and towed it to Chloe's heart. Once again, the venom entered via the vena cava and with one heartbeat spread through her whole body. She seized but never lost her focus on me. She must have formed some kind of link with me because I could actually feel her pain being siphoned off into my mind. It was more fuel for the blackness that feasted upon this new, foreign power source. I felt millions of filaments rocketing the venom around Chloe's body, changing cells far faster than it would occur naturally. It was hard to think of any part of this as being natural, though.

Then, as the molecules penetrated her major organs, I felt the tail end of an enormous surge of pain. This time Chloe lost eye contact, but the link still bored into me like a hot knife. Without thinking about it, my hand then left my forehead and grabbed Sorcha's behind me. The blackness slithered down my arm and tendrils found her pores. My memory of every second of the change was now crystal. The pain of it had filled my conscious mind and was drawn upon by the blackness along with Chloe's.

Then, physical pain of my own started to really set in.

I realised I was also speeding up Sorcha's change concurrent with helping Chloe. It was too much. The amount of feedback and sensory information alone was worse than any migraine, but then, managing the delicate actions of each filament on the microscopic level was debilitating. I knew at any moment my mind would give in, and the tendrils would snap back into their recess. I fought against it, trying to do as much as I could for both of them while I still could.

I felt utter relief as I realised Chloe's change was nearing its end. Her heart pounded against her hardening diaphragm, and blood vessels were closing in her extremities. Sorcha was somewhat behind with the venom only just spreading through her soft tissues. Then, Chloe's tremors stopped, and her body relaxed. She took her last meaningful breath as her lungs petrified, and the venom coated her protesting heart. As her heart slowed and the filaments withdrew, I felt my own agony dissipate, but it wasn't enough. Chloe's heart stopped cold and with that, the link between us severed. I hadn't enough pain of my own to keep the blackness burning and so, just as the venom seeped into Sorcha's lungs, the tendrils ripped like overstressed chains and shot back into my head, making it feel like it had been impaled on hot pokers. I fell to my side and heaved my chest, drawing useless air into my lungs.

I sensed Fiona moving about around us in a controlled but urgent way. She loomed over me every few minutes, trying to see if I was okay. Then, the strangest thing happened, I saw darkness creeping into my vision. I wasn't voluntarily closing my eyes. Was I passing out? Could that even happen to vampires? Though it was not the same as one's eyelids drawing closed, it was more like oil oozing over the surface of my eye from every direction, meeting at the centre. Then, the final pinprick of light I could see was extinguished.

For a moment, I was blind to the world and Fiona's voice was the faintest of echoes in my ears. Then, in a split second, it was like the dark veil over my eyes had lifted, and I was suddenly somewhere else.

It was all too confusing but then, I remembered. I was back in the meadow.  
This time, though, I wasn't standing near the eerie, twisted trees, I was sitting on the slope of the hill.

"I suppose you half-listened."

I jumped. The voice was unexpected but familiar. Sitting beside me was Fionn, smiling all knowingly and staring down below us towards the foggy tree line. I reoriented myself to better face him.

He made no moves, but he continued to speak. "You're living or at least you've found a way to accept this existence. You've found others who share your 'predicament' I suppose you would say. And yet, still you grieve, you punish yourself for things beyond your control."

"Well…it's hard not to. I've lost a lot, taken way too much, and now Chloe will suffer the same fate."

"This is but the beginning of your trials. You're strong enough though."

"What does that mean? You have to tell me."

"The pain of the last ten days is but the tip of the iceberg. There is much more that you will have to bear. It's best you be ready."

"What good is it telling me that bad things are going to happen? I need more than that. Stop being so bloody vague."

"I am but a warning, an omen if you will. That is all I can convey."

"Oh, so you're not really my friend."

He grinned and turned to me. "I am a manifestation of your subconscious mind. Since the day you received your friend's chain, the blackness has conjured me to alert you to the perils along your path. I appear when you are most weak, when you are most in doubt."

"Are you saying I can use the blackness to predict the future?"

"Hardly, your ability is complex and multi-faceted enough without any extra quirks like precognition. No, the blackness just allows your mind to be more open to possibilities, to be more aware of how current events will evolve as time transpires. You may yet escape anymore hardship…but it is unlikely."

"So, what? Hope for the best, prepare for the worst? That's your message?"

"Not quite, just letting you know that you should place the emphasis on the second half of that phrase."

I made to stand as I said, "Well, gee, thanks for that. You didn't want me to grieve and yet now I'll have to dwell real hard on how my situation could possibly get any worse…"

They were before me before I could say anymore. I saw them shoot across the meadow like angels of death gliding over the ground. There were five of them now. The shortest hooded figure that had appeared previously was joined by another who was even smaller. They crouched towards me and readied themselves to pounce. Peering past them, I saw the three figures in the woods had actually walked to the outer rim of the fog, which still obscured them, yet, for the first time, I noticed a fourth, another hooded figure, standing directly behind the middle one in close contact. The ones immediately in front of me encroached further.

As before, I found myself reacting quite fiercely like a cornered animal. Yet, the smallest of the group did not posture or taunt me. I assumed it was a girl as golden strands of hair slipped from under her hood. She raised her head, allowing light to fall on her ashen face. She pulled back the hood a moment later. She fixed her ruby-red eyes upon me and favoured me with a malign grin as if to say "Bet you weren't expecting that."

I uttered dumfounded, "Chloe?"

Fionn said plainly, "I warned you."

They were all upon me, tearing at my body within milliseconds. Chloe just stood there watching.

I "awoke" with a start. Immediately I was sitting up, and my eyes darted around. Fiona and Dermot were kneeling in front of me. She caught my shoulder and placed a hand on my cheek calmingly.

She said, "Jason, Jason, calm down. You're okay."

"How-how long was I gone?"

"You weren't _gone_ anywhere. It was like you were asleep, and dreaming. You were still aware of sound, I clicked my fingers by your ears and you flinched. You were definitely in some sort of REM state, rapid eye movement, sleep-talking, the works."

"I thought you said we don't sleep."

"We don't. This is quite remarkable. Can you remember your dreams?"

"It's happened before. It's not so much a dream as my subconscious mind giving my conscious mind a heads-up. Happens when I'm weak, first happened when I was human, and I was attacked by Danny and Julian in my bed. It happened again when I jumped off the Cliffs of Moher."

Dermot said with a smile, "Fun times."

"Sorry?"

"Cliff jumping, I find it exhilarating, especially walking away from it without any protection." I forgave him for his misunderstanding. I was hardly doing it for the craic, but I didn't want to get into it, so I let it go.

Fiona seemed to have an inkling of why I did that so soon after my change. I imagined she was finding out the truth as we spoke. Her smile was forced, and I realised she'd already discovered my many suicide attempts. I was surprised that there was anything she hadn't found out about me yet. The tension in my body started to ebb, and Fiona took her hands away. I eyed Dermot and asked, "So when did you arrive?"

"Well, Fiona thought you might do something stupid when you found your sister like that, so she called me when you left and told me to meet you here."

"That was unnecessary." A lie, but what could Dermot have done to stop me if I did lose the plot? I suppose she meant for him to be back up if a fight did happen. Then, suddenly, my last thoughts before "sleeping" came back to me, and I exclaimed, "Chloe, where is she?"

"Don't worry. She's alive."

"Let me see her."

I stood shakily and found her still lying beside me behind Fiona and Dermot. She was definitely a vampire, black eyes, pale skin, but she was not moving, not blinking, not even taking a breath. I knelt beside her taking the same hand as I had before. It was more solid, and it was warm but not in the burning human way.

I leaned over her, so my face was directly in her field of view and said, "Chloe? Chloe, are you okay? Chloe, answer me."

Fiona said from behind me, "We've tried. She won't budge, won't speak."

"Is this normal?"

"…No, I don't believe so."

"What could this be then?"

"It could simply be shock. Extreme emotional stress or physical injury can induce it, even in us."

I faltered as I said this, but I had to ask. "Could she…could the change have left her brain damaged?"

Fiona didn't answer for a few excruciatingly long moments but finally replied, "I don't know. It's possible. I have no idea of how the change affects children. There hasn't been a vampire as young as her in a long time. All I can say is that, if she did suffer brain damage during, then the venom might repair her brain, but her memories, her sense of identity might already be lost."

"Are you saying that she's just an empty vessel? A mindless body?"

"I can't say for sure. Perhaps, we just need to give her time."

I placed a hand on her cheek and held back the sobs. She stared at me vacantly, and it became too hard to look at her face.

Then, distant footfalls echoed in my ears.

I stiffened, as did Dermot and Fiona. I could hear three distinct sets of feet running too fast to be human. I inflated my sensory bubble as far as I could and already, they were within my range. I saw two females and a larger one who must have been a male. Fiona automatically knew what I did and stood close to Sorcha who was undergoing the last few hurdles of the change. Dermot stood at my side and by Chloe. Then, I sensed them spread out and approach more slowly from three different directions. I could smell them now. I had already guessed, but I was certain that it was the Genoan Coven.

This had been a trap.

They must have somehow known that I'd met up with Fiona and Dermot. So, they captured and bit my sister and left her out here, hoping I would bring all of them into this indefensible position. As they neared, I crouched in the direction I knew Danny would be coming from. Then, Dermot scooped up Chloe and placed her beside Sorcha. I understood immediately. We all faced outward with them in the middle, this was the best we could do to defend against a frontal assault. A moment later, they were in the small clearing with us. Fiona faced out against Sophia, Dermot against Carina, and me against Danny. We'd given them pause. Danny tried to move closer, but I guessed Sophia must have shot him a warning glance because he halted about ten feet from me.

I heard noises buzzing in my head like the incomprehensible babble of a crowd. Then, certain phrases would jump out at me. _You're safe_. _Relax_. _Be calm_. _We just want to talk_. _We're friends_. It was very hard not to believe it, and I could see how a weaker mind might be drawn in by these notions, but I was too furious to be fooled. Dermot seemed to be having more trouble ignoring Carina's trickery as he scrunched up his face in concentration. He held his own though and Fiona, of course, was entirely immune, being that she was constantly aware of how fictitious those notions were. Carina pressed harder. _We are not your enemies_. _Your enemies are beside you_. _Look at them, they will betray you, kill you_. Dermot's eyes flashed to me wildly in terror and to Sorcha and Chloe. _They're just pretending to be incapacitated_. _When you suspect it least, they will attack_. _Save yourself_. _Help us_. He was completely confused, and he groaned loudly putting his hands to his face.

Then, he bellowed, "GET OUT! I don't believe you!'

_Of course you do_. _Help your new friends, Dermot_. _Kill the boy_. _He's dangerous_. _He'll hurt your aunt_. She'd hit a nerve. She'd gotten to him. The look he gave me was one of odious fury. His hands reached towards me, but I held him back passively with the blackness by forming a wall between us. He pounded away to no effect. Fiona reached out and caught him by the forearm. He greeted her with a ferocious stare and bared teeth but then, in the instant their eyes met, calm swept over him. He glanced over at me apologetically for a fraction of a second before reassuming his position. Fiona had shown him the truth and now he was impervious to Carina's lies, at least those particular ones.

The buzz in my mind began to weaken as I saw through Carina's deception. She growled in irritation. Danny looked very frustrated by Carina's lack of success, but I guessed it was more the fact that Sophia hadn't allowed him to have a go at me. I couldn't see if Sophia was as aggravated, but I guessed she'd be keeping it bottled up beneath her icy exterior. I expected them to try another tactic, a different mind game or separate and confuse us with Sophia's barriers.

She surprised me by offering an ultimatum. "Leave this place, and we will let you live."

Fiona replied, "Unlikely on both counts. We will not be bullied away by the likes of you, and even if we go quietly, I doubt you will leave us alive to speak of this."

"And who will you talk to? We've done nothing that is forbidden by the much-vaunted Volturi. I also don't believe you young ones have many friends."

"You are very wrong about that."

"Hmm, I didn't take you to be a bluffing girl. Why don't you run off to your friends in Dublin? I'm sure they'll put you up. Besides, we have no quarrel with you, Fiona, you are not a competitor."

Dermot asked, "What's she talking about?"

Sophia replied, "I mean to say your aunt doesn't feed directly on humans, and if she hadn't been associated with you, we mightn't have bothered her at all."

"I feed on criminals. You're not as discriminate. I believe we have a different niche."

"Criminals are often the easiest prey to get to and the easiest to make disappear."

Fiona interjected, "I found you lurking around _my_ hospital. You lot are not vigilantes, you prey on the weak and the lonely, people who will not be missed."

"Actually, you're wrong, Fiona. How surprising. Having observed how you dispel untruths like those Carina manifests, I would have thought you'd have known I like my prey lively and vital. It's no fun if they don't struggle. I was around your hospital hoping to catch some of your fellow staff before they got into their cars. I fancied myself a doctor that night."

Fiona made a disgusted noise and replied, "I will not leave this territory to you, so you may cull innocents."

"Then, you leave me no choice. It was nice meeting you once more, Fiona, but believe me, it will never happen again."

My sensory bubble immediately detected Sophia's barrier as it was repelled by it. I knew its shape and the amount of force behind it. It was much like the wall I created to block Dermot but much wider and certainly not passive. It was racing headlong towards Fiona, ripping apart the vegetation in its path and creating a tornado of leaf litter. Fiona would not have time to move aside. The force Sophia was generating would be enough to rip limbs or even to sever a head. I _had_ underestimated her. Her power was in her discipline, and she was more levelheaded and focused than before. I had mere fractions of a second to act before Fiona was torn to pieces. So, I pirouetted around. In mid-spin, I caught her by the elbow. I swung her behind me with all my strength. Once she was safely out of the way, I raised a wall in front of me. It was not a moment too soon.

The impact was stupendous.

The blackness had recoiled until it held Sophia's barrier but a few inches from my face. I felt as though I was pinned by a tremendous weight. My fury was building, and I began pushing back. I heard Danny try to intervene, running towards me, but Dermot tackled him. He went down but hurled Dermot far clear of him, and he made for me again. Danny might have been a strong newborn, but he was an ungainly oaf next to Dermot. As Danny tried to reach me, Dermot threw him off balance and shoved him back. He was too fast for him, and Danny never managed to lay a finger on him.

I managed to expand the blackness outward until Sophia and I were equally matched, our battle being waged halfway between us. I couldn't crush her barrier like I'd done before, but nor was she able to repel mine. Then, Carina intervened. She started pouring images into my mind, trying to delude me into thinking I was somewhere else. I felt like I was falling from a cliff, which was not something I wanted to relive. The feeling of falling distracted me, and Sophia took advantage, pummelling the blackness until it evaporated. Fiona sensed my turmoil and in seconds showed me where I really was by taking my hand.

Even angrier than before, I shoved the barrier, back but she seemed to have reached a state of absolute Zen, for I could not force her back anymore. In fact, the blackness was contracting. I struggled and fought it, but I could feel myself weakening, and the blackness was withdrawing into its recess. I knew I could not sustain this much longer. Carina tried to fool me with more delusions. She made me think I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean and would never surface. She made me believe a horde of enemies was coming at me from all sides. No matter what lie she created, Fiona was quick to right me. Still, it was drawing my attention, and I needed every ounce of it to hold off Sophia.

Then, a new tactic occurred to me.

I allowed the blackness to contract until it was skin-tight around me and Fiona. Sophia's barrier pressured us from every side like we were under kilometres of water. Then, I focused. I brought the blackness into a spear point above my chest. I kept gathering it in one place, forcing it to become denser than I'd ever made it before. The blackness resisted, pulsating and loosening itself, but I exercised enough control to rein it in. I squashed it into a tinnier and tinnier space, shaking with the effort. Then, when I felt I could hold it no more, I released it. It streaked across the space between us like a lightning bolt, cutting through Sophia's barrier. It lost some of its force when it reached her but it was enough. It struck her in the stomach and sent her flying back into a tree with such force that the trunk snapped. Carina caught the edge of the bolt of blackness and was swung far to the right of us. Sophia seemed very weakened and confused by what had just happened.

Carina, though, was nowhere near as badly affected. She launched another mental assault, this time aimed at Dermot. His effortless evasion of Danny suddenly came to a halt, and he stared at the ground. He just muttered the word "No" when Danny took the opportunity to grapple him. In a moment, he had him in a headlock. As a newborn, Danny could crush an older vampire like Dermot in seconds. This had be fast and forceful. I extended a tendril out in front of Danny's face. I flattened its end out so the whole thing looked like an oversized shovel head. One flick of the wrist later and Danny was torn away from Dermot, hurling through the air.

But was I too late? Dermot was slumped on the ground.

Fiona raced to check on him. He rolled over and moaned. Cracks had spread across his marble skin from his chin down to his chest. They were sealing themselves, but he was still dazed, and Danny would not be dissuaded for long. Then, I became aware of something missing, a sound. Although Carina's ability was only a distraction to me, I had heard the buzzing throughout this whole confrontation. I wondered why she had just given up when I turned to see why. She was kneeling beside Chloe, muttering something. It wasn't English, but I thought it might be Latin. It was the same three words repeated over and over again.

_Is est vicis_.  
My rage bursting forth, I made to lunge at her. I was charging forward headlong, she wouldn't have a chance to escape. Danny managed to intercept me a moment before I reached her. He charged me through two young trees before pinning me to the ground. He had me by the throat, and the only reason he hadn't decapitated me was the force I was exerting against his arms. He was stronger, though, and I could feel the pressure building. He snarled and growled as I continued to fight back, but he smiled madly every time I lost ground.

As the cracks began to form, making a shrill splitting noise, he said, "Guess being a freak doesn't always serve you well."

Too true, I'd have been ripping him to shreds right there, if I weren't afraid of dying. How strange, to be terrified of the thing I had wanted since I began this second life. Perhaps the voice of my subconscious, in the form of Fionn, had gotten to me. More likely, it was the fact that my sister and my newfound friends were battling a much stronger coven and without me, they were as good as dead. Yet, I saw no way out of this, unless someone helped me. I was too afraid to summon the blackness, and my own strength was not enough. I heard the sound of the scuffles nearby. I was full sure Fiona would have laid into Carina for trying to help Danny kill her nephew. Sophia was still weak, but her emotional control would be fast returning, and I could already here Dermot struggling against her barriers.

Danny was wickedly overjoyed with the prospect of finally killing me, his expression reminded me of a rabid dog about to finish off its victim. Then, amongst the cacophony, I realised something was missing. A familiar sound that had been present in the background the whole time, one which there was nothing of the like for miles around.

A human heartbeat.

Then, I saw her. Skin pale, eyes black but still pretty, even more so than before. She stood behind Danny, looking down upon him coolly but beyond that, her expression was unreadable. I had no idea what she might do. Then, with amazingly silent footsteps, she walked right up behind Danny at a human pace. With vampire speed, she then flung her arms around his head and squeezed. Danny yelped and tried to shake her off, but it was like she was glued to him. He still refused to let go of me, though, but he loosened his grip enough for me to try to wriggle away. He continued to hiss and snarl until something strange happened. I heard a sizzling noise like when food is fried in oil. Danny cried out and screeched, but Sorcha never let go. A moment later, smoke started to rise from his head, and his hair started to shrivel. He was squealing pitifully like a dog that had been kicked, but he finally managed to shake Sorcha off.

Then, I saw what she had done.

His eyes and the area around them were black and sooty, smoke rose from the sockets, and a few patches of skin were still hot enough to glow. She had somehow burned out his eyes with her bare hands. He wailed in pain and staggered about as Sorcha came to her feet. She tried to latch on to him again but this time, Danny sensed her approach and swung out his arm. Sorcha hurtled backwards straight into the clearing. Danny was trying to steady himself, and I noticed that particles of soot were falling away from his face. He was healing.

I couldn't know whether or not he'd regain his sight, but I wasn't taking any chances, except this chance to finish him.

I marched towards him with icy intent. Just beyond him in the clearing, I saw Sophia was too distracted by Dermot to notice what was happening. Carina was running circles around Fiona, but she was only fast, not strong, and she seemed intent on making her tricks work on her. Danny knew I was coming and threw an arm in my direction. I snatched him by the forearm and clasped his hand and with one quick wrench, I severed it almost down to the elbow. He howled in agonised shock. Then, I placed my hand flat on his face and pressed it down against his shoulder. I hooked the other hand around his shoulder and jerked it towards me. I had crushed his shoulder, and his other arm simply fell off.

He fell to his knees and wailed, "SOPHIA! Please…please help me."

She did not hear him or decided his need wasn't urgent. She obviously could not see the state he was in. He whimpered, "My…my lady, I love you."  
She didn't notice the sound of his snapping arms, but she would notice this. I caught his head with both hands just under the hinges of his jaw. With all my strength, I yanked his head upward. His throat and neck cracked, his Jaw seized, and his body trembled. As the cracks spread and joined, I felt a little give on the left side. I bent his head slightly to the right and snapped down and then up. A cloud of dust erupted from his neck before it finally separated. I looked at his face still frozen in terror for a brief few moments and dropped his head. It clattered against his torso and rolled down beside it. I heaped the pieces of his arm together as Sorcha returned to help.

She said disappointedly, "Oh, you killed him already."

"Burn what's left."

She looked at me bewildered but did not argue. She knelt down beside Danny's remains and saw why I wanted them burned. They were moving, starting to reassemble themselves. She waved her hands over his remains as though she were warming them over a campfire. Then, a pale red glow spilled from her hands down upon them. There was a sizzle and a few cracks before it all burst simultaneously into flame. Finally, Sophia sensed what had happened. She stepped forward. Dermot tried to stop her, but she was irate, and with a shriek, threw him aside.

She stomped towards me and Sorcha screaming ear-piercingly loud. 'NO! MY DANNY! I'LL KILL YOU."

I did not taunt her but at the same time, I felt no pity for her loss. She had brought it upon herself.

Sorcha did not have as much restraint and said dismissively, "Bring it, bitch."

Sophia's face contorted and she let out a roar as she plunged head-on towards us like a runaway train. She was lost in anger, grief, pain, no emotional control whatsoever. I wouldn't take much to stop her in her tracks. I drew the blackness into the form of a car-sized oval rounding its sides with my arms and raising its density with my mind. Carina tried to stop Sophia just as she smacked into the blackness. She fell backwards, but she was back on her feet in an instant and made another run at me. This time I cast the oval forward to meet her at the speed of racing car. It smacked into both of them with a crunch, and they remained pinned against it as it drove into the forest. Tree after tree they smacked off of and every time I thought one of them was slipping off, I would reform part of the oval into a tendril and draw them back. Then, as they passed the mile mark, the blackness stretched too thin and snapped. They were flung forward by their momentum and crashed into the undergrowth.

A few moments later, I heard Sophia's shouts through uncontrollable sobs. She clearly wanted to go back and get revenge, but Carina convinced her otherwise and led her out of the forest. A minute later, they were out of range of all our senses.

After gathering ourselves for a second, I asked, "Is everyone okay?"

Dermot replied, "I'm good, gee, never had a fight like that."

Fiona added, "Trust you to think that that was a laugh."

"I don't think that. Just that it was a very…energetic experience."

"You mean exhilarating. I'm fine by the way."

I turned to Sorcha who was open-mouthed and was massaging her throat with her hand, I said, "Bad, ain't it?"

"My throat feels like I stuck my hand down there and turned up the heat. What is this?"

"You'll understand soon enough. Fiona, is Chloe still…?"

She wasn't there. Chloe had gone. I charged over to the spot where she had been as if to confirm what my eyes were telling me. My eyes scanned the edges of the clearing, but there was no one nearby.

I swivelled round to face Fiona. "Where is she?"

"She is close, in a field by the road."

"Did you not see her leave?" I shouted.

"I'm sorry, Jason, but we were a little distracted."

"NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"

Dermot interjected, "Jason, calm down. We'll get her back."  
I fell silent but could not calm down. I sincerely hoped Fiona wasn't right about the Immortal Children. Would Chloe break into someone's house or feed on a group of humans on the side of a street? She was a newborn and very young anyways, she would simply feel hunger and act on it without thought. If we didn't get her back, she could kill a lot of people and perhaps even draw the wrong sort of attention. Then, my worst fears were confirmed. I heard a car screeching to a halt on the road. A window was smashed, and a man yelled out in terror and pain. I heard someone else, too, I heard them crying. Whoever it was was very young. Then, I knew they were the cries of a little boy watching his father being killed. Before everyone else could catch on, I hared down the slope that the forest was upon and darted nimbly amongst the trees.

The others were very fast, but my strides were longer because of my newborn strength. All but Sorcha fell well behind, and even she was separated from me by at least fifty feet. As the vegetation thinned, I saw the field ahead and out in the middle of the road was a stalled car. I forced myself to go even faster and zipped across the grass in the blink of an eye. I hopped over the ditch cleanly and landed with a gentle thud on the road.  
Despite my speedy arrival, I was too late.

The man I'd heard had been pulled through the driver's seat window and lay lifeless on the tarmac with not a drop of blood left to him. Then, I remembered the little boy. I ran around the man's body and saw the back window on the driver's side had also been smashed in. A large child seat lay on its side in the back of the car. The seatbelt that held it in had been ripped. Sorcha arrived not long after me followed a few seconds later by Fiona and Dermot.

Fiona put her hand to her mouth and said, "Oh no, that poor man. Jason, I am so sorry."

"It's not anyone's fault. You might be a truth-seer, but you're no fortune teller."

Then, she was at my side and she gazed, like me, at the child seat. She muttered, "Oh my God, he could have been no more than four."

I said solemnly, "She'll never forgive herself. She's so emotional and so in tune with the feelings of others. She would have felt everything they felt when they died."

Fiona had been concentrating. Then, she took in a sharp breath and steadied herself against me. Dermot asked, "What's wrong, Fiona?"

"Her…her intention is not to kill the boy but…but to change him. She's already done it. He'll be a vampire in a matter of days."

"He's even younger than her; he'll never be able to control himself. He'll be…"

"An Immortal Child, the gravest sin in the eyes of the Volturi."

I looked at them both, perplexed by Chloe's actions and terrified at their potential consequences.

Then, Dermot said in a defeated tone, "Ah hell, we're done for."


	8. Chapter 8 The Troops

**8. THE TROOPS**

It had been five days since Chloe's change and subsequent disappearance, and we were still no closer to finding her. Tracking her had become a pointless endeavour as heavy spring rains moved in, washing away any scent trails. Fiona could not pin down her exact location despite her familiarity and recent contact with her. She surmised that it was because Chloe herself didn't know where she was. An unfortunate drawback of Fiona's ability was that she could only know things about people that they knew about themselves. All she could say for sure was that she was somewhere in the province of Connacht. Not exactly helpful but very, very strange. If she was hungry, then she surely would go where humans were most plentiful, and she wasn't near Galway City but out in the country somewhere. Fiona could say for certain that the young boy she had kidnapped was now a fully fledged vampire and still travelled with her.

She also got the sense from Chloe that they were no longer the only ones.

This was the most disturbing news of all. If she had changed other children, then the Volturi were sure to step in, and they would be most unforgiving. Fiona told me that they probably wouldn't even stop to say anything and would likely kill first and ask questions later. The thought would have made my human self hurl, but this body reacted very differently to my emotional turmoil. It was more like constant mild shock or being completely zoned out. It was frustrating, and it didn't reflect how tortured I was emotionally.

I'd been sitting on Fiona's sofa for many hours without realising, lost in quiet contemplation. There was so much about my situation I wanted to understand, so much I wanted to put right. I could not figure out why Chloe was behaving this way. If it were merely newborn hunger motivating her, then why change others into vampires? By now, she should have fed enough to come to her senses and return. Yet, she remained elusive. Fiona didn't understand it either. As a newborn, it went against her nature to create competition for herself. Fiona, though, was more concerned about what she was doing than why she was doing it. She sensed her new companions were all very young, in human terms, and were also very undisciplined and uncontrollable. Fiona was at a loss as to how Chloe was even keeping them together until I pointed it out to her.

Chloe's ability. She was probably keeping them docile and very suggestible. Still, the question remained, why was she doing it?

No matter the reason, we were left with an awful mess to clean up before the Volturi caught wind of the situation. We had barely disposed of Chloe's first victim and his car before people arrived on the scene. Despite us burning the evidence, it was still apparent that the child was missing. The news was nothing but wall-to-wall disappearance stories. As the day wore on, more details were released. Confirming our worst fears, a number of children had been reported missing. The youngest of these were no more than five or six years old, and they ranged up to teenagers almost my age. There had been seven so far, including the young boy. Each one of them had been snatched from gardens, playgrounds, parks, and even bedrooms, right under their parents' noses. I stared at the television, wishing I could cry. It hurt to have even a fleeting thought of how all this must have been affecting Chloe. Emotional control, that was her speciality, and despite that, she could not overpower her most basic emotions and stop _herself_. At the same time, she probably couldn't ignore her awareness of the emotions of her victims. Maybe it would have been more of a mercy to kill her. I shuddered at the thought but couldn't dismiss it. I kept staring at the television screen as Dermot came in the door. I already knew the answer but asked anyway, "Any luck?"

"No, I don't think she's in Mayo anywhere."

"Half of the disappearances occurred there."

"Yes but they're pretty close to the borders with Sligo and Roscommon. She's obviously not staying in any one place for too long."

Fiona arrived from the kitchen, having come up the stairs from the basement. She said, "Okay, my turn. I guess I'll still start with County Sligo, biggest population."

I said tonelessly, "Why bother?"

She seemed furious as though I'd asked a very personal question. She replied, "Jason, we've already been through this. You know what will happen if this is left to fester."

"Yes, I know the Volturi will come, and that might be very bad for us, but seriously, one of us going out at a time to search a whole county is ludicrous. She can easily evade us and even if one of us finds her, what can we do? By the time we get back here to let everyone know, she'll be gone somewhere else."

"Jason, you know at least two of us have to stay with Sorcha. She's not handling this as easily as you have."

That was an understatement. As soon as we arrived at the car that Chloe attacked, Sorcha was spinning around wildly, taking in all the human aromas around her. She'd heard the humans coming to investigate, and she'd tried to get away from us to hunt. Dermot and Fiona had reached for her, but she burned both of them. Whilst they were busy putting out their smouldering clothes, I had had to contain Sorcha with the blackness. Her newborn strength was hard to control, but I managed to drag her as far as the Shannon Estuary, which we swam all the way down to Kerry. The briny water covered most of the aromas coming from the shores. Still, as soon we came ashore west of Tarbert, she lost her mind again. We'd chased her all the way to the edge of town before I managed to wrap her up tight and drag her back.

Things got a little easier when we arrived at the cottage.

The isolation from humans helped, and she cooled off appreciably. Yet now and again, a strong breeze would carry human odours from Killarney or Tralee, and she would become very agitated. She seemed content to be locked up in the basement, where outside smells were less pungent, and drain bag after bag of donated blood. We knew she couldn't be left alone though, and given that I was the only one who could stop her without touching her, I got to play babysitter. I reassured Fiona and Dermot that I could handle her on my own, but they insisted one of them be there at all times in case she got passed me. It made little sense to me, but I suspected they thought it irresponsible to leave one newborn under the supervision of another. I knew it was nothing personal, but they seemed to have become more stringent about the rules ever since the possibility of Volturi intervention arose. Still, I disagreed with their handling of the situation and suggested, "I think you should call Siobhan."

Fiona inhaled deeply, and Dermot nearly fell from his precarious sitting position on the armrest of a chair. She huffed out and replied adamantly, "I am not involving Siobhan's coven in this debacle. If we do, they'll be put at risk, too. That is unacceptable."

"Well, we need help. There isn't enough of us to manage the situation, and I don't see who else there is."

"We'll have to make-do."

Dermot looked uncomfortable, as though he were debating something unpleasant in his head. I thought maybe he agreed with me and wasn't sure if he should say something. I didn't expect to hear what he said next. "I…I may know someone."

Fiona looked bewildered for once and asked suspiciously, "Who?"

"Just…someone I've met recently. She's a Welsh vampire, but she comes to Ireland on occasion. I could give her a call. She lives near Holyhead, so it won't take her more than a day to get here."

Fiona smirked in a sudden wave of realisation and said, "I had no idea."

Dermot replied, "You mean…you didn't check up on me to see where I was."

"Dermot, you are an adult. I don't pry into your private life on a whim."

"But I've gone for weeks at a time."

"Not my business, but now that you've brought it up, she is very pretty. I would love to meet your girlfriend."

Dermot looked scandalised and grimaced at the word "girlfriend". He replied sullenly, "She's not my _girlfriend_. It's a little more than that."

"I'm not saying it isn't. I'm just not particularly comfortable with the word "mate". It sounds so primitive."

"Whatever! Will I call her or not?"

"Oh, by all means, do. Send my regards."

Dermot stormed out of the cottage huffily and whipped out his mobile phone outside. He was taking as fast as he could to make it hard for us to catch his words. Fiona shook her head with an adoring smile. I was not as caught up in the lightened mood. I smiled weakly, but Fiona was quick to discern my true feelings. Her own smile faded, and she said, "I can't do it, Jason."

"You must. We'll never manage this by ourselves."

"We just need to find your sister and bring her back. That's all."

"And what about the others? The little pack she's gathered? They're wild, hungry newborns. They won't come quietly, and I think you know what we'll have to do."

She moved her jaw, as if chewing on something unpalatable. She replied, "I think we should just retrieve her and leave the rest to their own devices. It will be better if we don't associate ourselves with the Immortal Children and just let the Volturi clean up the mess."

"And what if they ask them questions? What if they name Chloe?"

"We can simply deny it. They have no other proof."

"Are you sure that'll be enough to persuade them?"

"…No."

I watched her stoutly, and she seemed to crumble under the weight of my logic. She abhorred this situation and wished there was another way, as did I. The facts of the matter were though that our numbers were too few, and Siobhan's coven had to be called in. Also, we both knew that we would end up killing the Immortal Children to save ourselves from the Volturi's scrutiny. These children hadn't asked for this, and they likely were too confused in their new state of being to even understand what was going on. Yet, their very existence was outlawed, and I was sure we would be a lot more merciful than the Volturi. It was tragic, but it had to be done. I already knew the answer to my next question, but I asked anyways, "So, what's it to be?"

"…I'll ring Siobhan. They'll probably be here later today."

"This is the right thing to do."

"There's nothing right about any of this," she said as she walked away from me to her room.

Dermot re-entered then. He had a look of anxiousness about him, and who could blame him? He was asking his love to take a big risk that could end very badly for all concerned. I asked, "Are you okay?"

"I just…hate all of this. I wish she didn't have to come, but we need her."

"Fiona's agreed to call Siobhan."

"That's a relief. They may be children, but they still have all the strength of newborns. It would be scary to face all of them, just the five of us."

"I know. We're gonna have to eliminate all of them until Chloe's the only one left. Then, we've to talk some sense into her."

"That should prove interesting. Although, unlimited donated blood might keep her reasonably level-headed."

"Very reassuring, Dermot."

"Just telling it like it is. This ain't gonna be easy for her, man. At her young age, there's a chance she might never be fully in control. With her ability, it's gonna be hard to contain her. If she gets out there, and doesn't follow the rules, the Volturi may very well come back."

I became very hostile and said, "Are you suggesting something, Dermot?"

"Man, cool it. You know I'm only being honest."

I struggled to control myself, but I was about to fly apart with rage. I would never sacrifice my sister to save my own skin. He should have known better than to even imply that to me. The blackness was shooting against the inside of my skull like a ricocheting bullet. I gripped the armrest and gritted my teeth audibly. Dermot came closer and crouched in front of me, which was unexpected. Normally, people backed away when I got angry. He said calmingly, "Jason, it's okay. We're gonna do our very best for Chloe. Nobody's going to hurt her. I'm very sorry, man. That was a stupid thing to suggest, but you should be prepared for the worst case scenario."

His sincerity did make me a little calmer, and I managed to get a grip on the blackness before it made a mess of Fiona's cottage, and Dermot. I looked at him determinedly though and replied, "I will die in fire at the hands of the Volturi before I let them or anyone else harm her. We will rescue her, and she will stay alive as long as I'm still around to have a say on it. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, now we only have to figure out how we'll accomplish all this."

Then, Fiona returned. We had not been paying attention to her phone call, so I could not guess at the outcome. She seemed demoralized, and I could only assume that meant that Siobhan had agreed to come. If she hadn't, then Fiona would still have been gung-ho about us doing this alone. She spoke and confirmed my deduction. "Siobhan has agreed to come immediately. They'll be here tonight. They just have to make some arrangements before they leave Dublin."

"Did you tell her everything?"

"…No, and I hope they will hear us out when they arrive. They may leave straight away, so they can deny any involvement when the Volturi come."

"Surely they'll stick by you. You said you were like an extended family."

"But we're asking a lot, Jason. If they come, Siobhan will be putting her life and that of Maggie's and Liam's at risk. There is a very strong possibility some of us could be killed in the battle with the newborns and after that, we may be executed as punishment when the Volturi discover our connection to the situation."

"But this isn't our fault."

"No, but once the Genoans leave, then who else could possibly be to blame? We are the only vampires in the country, and I'd say the Volturi keep track of the nomads."

Dermot uttered, "All lines of evidence point to us."

"They don't even need evidence, just to wow us with their deductive reasoning skills, and that'll be the end of it."

"So are you saying it's hopeless?"

"No, just that we'll have to play our cards well if we all intend to get through this alive."

I replied, "Well let's just hope they're dealt in our favour."

Siobhan called again to say they were on their way. Even with Dublin nearly two hundred miles away, I doubted it would take them more than ten minutes to reach the cottage. That was the advantage of a small country; no journey was an onerous one, especially for vampires. Fiona paced as she decided how to greet them, introduce Sorcha and I, and explain the situation. Her nervousness was worsening my own agitation, so I left the room to grab some blood. I took six pints and tried to drink it in a civilised manner, out of a jug. My eyes glanced across to my right as I drank. I noticed the door to the basement was wide open, and I could hear Sorcha squirming and moving about. I finished my blood and walked down to the basement cautiously. When I entered, I noticed that it was decorated much like the guestroom I was staying in. It was definitely not your typical, dingy basement. Sorcha was curled up on a bed right in front of me, which was the furthest corner from the door and the small window to my left. She held the duvet so tight that the fabric was ripping. She sank her teeth into her pillow every few seconds and sent up a plume of feathers. I could smell what she did. Human odours were blowing in from Killarney with the strong southwesterly wind. I could sense a slight draft from the window that was letting the smells in. I shut the door behind me, which startled her. I was surprised she hadn't noticed me, but it was hard to comprehend the extent to which her hunger dominated her. She was still distracted even as she looked at me, her eyes darting away and back. I felt so guilty in that moment. She would not have become a vampire if I hadn't saved her. She would have died, and something told me she might have preferred death to this. She managed to sit up and focus on me a bit better. She said with a scowl across her face, "Ever heard of knocking?"

"Sorry, the doors were open and you seemed…distressed."

"Hah! There's the understatement of the century."

"…Can I help…?"

"You've helped enough already," she snapped.

Well, I hadn't been too far wrong about how she felt about the situation, about me. I said tentatively, "I'm sorry for…"

Suddenly, smoke erupted from the bed sheets, and I saw her hands were glowing orange. She replied acerbically, "You're _sorry_? Oh, well, that makes everything all better, doesn't it? I suddenly feel all fuzzy and warm inside. WRONG! You listen to me good. I was grateful that you saved me from those boys and that you brought me to hospital, but this I would _not_ have chosen."

"I understand…"

"Shut the fuck up! You understand shit! From what Fiona tells me, you're having it easy. Do you have any idea what this feels like? Do you? I want blood so bad, and I know I'd have to kill innocent people to get it, but that doesn't matter. It's not enough to stop me. Even now, the whiffs of humans miles away are an almost irresistible lure. I've been smothering myself in the pillows, trying to cover up their scents with the odour of fresh linen. I've been burning things, too, to create odours. Nothing works, though. I want to kill. It's that simple."

"You haven't become a psychopath if that's what you're thinking. It's just the hunger…"

"Once again, what the fuck do you know? Fiona's shared _everything_ with me. You confined yourself to an island. You were able to pick and choose your prey. You were able to resist feeding on your sister, even though she stood bleeding before you. Hell, if my family were a bloody mess standing before me, I'd kill them without a moment's thought. Do have any idea how it feels to have that knowledge? To know that your love for your own family is secondary to the lust for their blood?"

"No, I guess I don't."

"Then, stop trying to comfort me. In fact, I'd appreciate you not talking to me unnecessarily for as long as we're in each other's presence. You got that?" I nodded once in affirmation and she continued, "Good, now get out."

She was just about to return to chomping on her pillow when I heard a distant noise growing closer by the second. It was the footfalls of vampires, three of them as far as I could tell. Sorcha had heard it, too. She held her breath and stormed passed me. She reluctantly braved the staircase, knowing her woes would be increased tenfold up there. I followed her up into the living room. Fiona and Dermot stood by the door, both of them looking uncertain still. I hoped that Siobhan and her coven would respond favourably to us because without their help, we were done for.

A few seconds later, there was a gentle tap on the front door. Fiona looked anxious, but Dermot placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Sorcha and I stayed well back, standing near the kitchen door but still managing to keep at least six feet between us. Fiona let out a breath and reached for the door handle. She opened it in a wide sweep, and herself and Dermot stood side by side, hiding us from view.

I heard Siobhan's voice first.

It was melodic and mirthful. I saw her arms reach around Fiona to embrace her. Her chin rested upon Fiona's shoulder, and she then switched to hug Dermot without even blinking at Sorcha and me. Then, a smaller woman skipped almost into the cottage and threw her arms around Fiona, too, reaching up to her as Fiona was considerably taller. Finally, a man entered the cottage with slow, deliberate steps. He did not embrace anyone and simply nodded to Fiona and Dermot. Having exchanged their hellos and asked how each other were, Siobhan placed her hands upon Fiona's shoulders and asked, "So, my dear, what was so urgent that you needed us down here immediately?" She was still not paying us any heed, and her attention was squarely focused upon Fiona's reluctant expression. Siobhan seemed to pick up on it and said, "My dear, whatever it is, we can deal with it. Tell me what's bothering you so."

She replied with a bit more confidence, "Perhaps our problem would be better explained if I first introduced our new friends."

Siobhan, Maggie, and Liam were now in full view as Fiona led them in. Dermot, for some reason, zipped across the room to my side. This action left me feeling very uneasy as the eyes of Siobhan's coven scrutinised us with interest and also concern. I could judge Siobhan's appearance more fully now, along with the others. She was quite a big woman but beautiful to behold, and her body moved in smooth undulations that were mesmerising to watch. Her hair only stretched past her ears and was a few shades darker than Fiona's. Her eyes were surprisingly dull in colour, and I knew that must have meant she needed to hunt. All in all, she had a commanding presence that felt almost like being a pupil in the presence of a headmistress.

Liam was her mate. He stayed very close to her, standing but a foot away. He was physically very imposing, even more so than Danny had been, dwarfing his spouse and coven mate. He was hard-faced, his eyes narrowed permanently, and his wavy, light-brown hair did nothing to soften his features.

Maggie was perhaps the only member of this coven who I did not find intimidating. Her hair fell in red, bouncy curls that stretched beyond her shoulders. Her face was petite and heart-shaped, sitting upon a long neck, which made her face and its features seem even smaller. She was short, too, with only Fiona not towering over her, but even she was still several inches taller than Maggie. Her body was delicate, almost spindly. I guessed she must have been very young when she was changed, perhaps younger than myself even. Maggie was also the only one who favoured us with a smile, which was beaming and almost shaped like a blunt "V". Siobhan's expression was not as warm. She asked questioningly, 'Fiona, who might these be?"

Fiona replied tentatively, "This is Jason and his second cousin, Sorcha."

"Hmm, I see."

Siobhan was still very cautious in her manner, and Liam looked threatened, though I failed to see why he should feel that way. There was an awkward, tense moment in which Fiona tried to find the words to explain the situation. Then, out of nowhere, Maggie traversed the chasm between us and held out a hand to me. She said amiably, "It is nice to meet you, Jason, and you, Sorcha." She did not shake Sorcha's hand I noticed and seemed intently focused on me, though I imagined Sorcha wouldn't have the common courtesy to respond to such gestures.

Siobhan was still guarded, but she stepped forward and held out a hand to me. I took it nervously as she smiled slightly. She, too, only greeted Sorcha in words and looking over, I could see why. I doubted it was possible for anyone to wear a more menacing expression. The occasional twitch as she struggled with her hunger did not help matters. _No wonder Liam feels threatened_. He didn't follow Siobhan's lead either, and she did not encourage him to do so. After a long, tense moment, Siobhan spoke again, saying, "Well, now that we've been introduced, perhaps you'd like to tell us how you all met and explain the situation."

Fiona seemed to clear her throat, which is uncharacteristic of vampires, but it was probably a latent human reflex. She said, trying to gather her thoughts, "Well…I met Jason at my hospital. He had brought in Sorcha who was human then and very badly injured. I was suspicious of his motives at first, until I used my ability to learn about him. He is a newborn brought into this life by accident."

Siobhan asked, "Who are his creators?"

Fiona replied, "The Genoans."

Siobhan raised her eyebrows indignantly and the others hissed at the utterance of that name. Siobhan said, "Ah, our good _friends_, the Genoans. I should've known that they'd have something to do with this. We've been tracking their activities in Ireland for some time. We still have to ascertain what exactly they are up to."

"It's a land-grab," replied Dermot.

"Explain."

"They're trying to stake a claim on this country, so they can make it their own personal feeding ground."

Siobhan shook her head in exasperation. Then, Maggie asked, "Fiona, what is their connection to the Genoans. I don't understand it. You say Jason was created _accidentally_?"

I finally worked up some guts and answered her question. "It's true. They did not intend to make me a vampire. Julian fed upon me as Danny was torturing me. My own ability hastened the spread of his venom and expedited my change. I fought them off after that. I wandered for many days before I met up with Dermot and Fiona. I can't imagine how I'd be right now without them."

Fiona gave me a small smile and said, "I think you would've been just fine. Like me, you would've figured out ways to survive without taking life."

Siobhan asked, "Why do you say that?"

"He has remarkable self-control for a newborn. He can resist feeding on humans, even when he's in a crowd. He even exiled himself in the ocean and on Mutton Island for ten days after his change."

Raising only one surprised eyebrow this time, Siobhan replied, "Impressive."

I replied, "Thank you."

"That is a rare faculty among newborns, self-control. In fact, I have met only one other who possessed it to the degree that you do at such a young age. Her name is Bella Cullen of the Olympic Coven over in the States."

"Really? Can she be in their presence easily?"

"Yes, in fact, I believe she still maintains contact with her human father on a regular basis."

I was about to ask more questions when Fiona interjected, "Perhaps that is a story for another time. There is the matter at hand to discuss."

I was about to argue but Maggie cut in straight away. "So what about Sorcha? How was she changed?"

I replied, "I found her whilst hunting in Limerick being attacked by three boys I once knew, friends of Danny's, the latest addition to the Genoan Coven. I brought her to hospital where I met Fiona. When it became apparent that she would not survive her injuries…"

"I changed her," Fiona blurted out.

Siobhan cast a disapproving eye on her. She said, "Fiona, you should have called us if you wished to change this girl. You remember how much difficulty you had with Dermot. This was a grave risk and even a bit irresponsible."

Sorcha finally snapped. "Would you please stop discussing me like I'm not here. I didn't ask for this, you know. I would've rather died, but here I am, so deal with it." Siobhan looked aggravated, but I tried to ease the tension. "Siobhan, to be honest, it was a decision that had to be made quickly, and so, we never could have called you. Also, my ability allows me to contain her."

She replied, "Intriguing, what is it that you can do?"

Instead of explaining the intricate details of the blackness, it's sensory and tactile sides, its relation to my emotional states, and so forth, I decided just to show her. I summoned a painful memory, the night I left Chloe after the deaths of my father and brother. Heat built within my mind, and I harnessed it. A black tendril reached towards Siobhan and wrapped around her arm. I then said, "Move your left arm."

"Excuse me."

"Just do it."

She tried, but it was fixed in a locked position with her fingertips pointing at the ground. She strained and heaved, but she could not raise it. She tried moving around the room, but the tendril was latched on like a leash. Maggie was astounded, but Liam stepped forward and postured aggressively just a few feet away from me. Siobhan raised her free arm and said, "It is all right, Liam." I released my grip, and she flexed and stretched her arm, seemingly trying to ease tension that could not have been there. Siobhan seemed to realise what she was doing was unnecessary and purely a human compulsion. She turned to me once more and said, "Impressive, can you control people's bodies then?"

"More than that."

Keeping the memory of Chloe at the forefront of my mind, I reached out to the coffee table and raised it from the ground on a flat pane of blackness, floating it up to the ceiling before easing it down once more. Siobhan and Maggie looked even more stunned than before, and even Liam seemed mildly impressed. Maggie looked at me like a smiley schoolgirl who'd just seen a magic trick and said, "Incredible, you're telekinetic."

I hesitated but decided to clarify a bit more, saying, "That's part of it. My ability also generates heat, and there's a sensory element to it. It's very complicated to explain, but yours is a fair description of the most potent side of my ability."

She nodded but continued to smile. Siobhan stepped forward now until she was as close as Maggie with Liam standing not far behind. She said, "Well, while it has been a pleasure to meet _you_, Jason, I assume there's more to this meeting than introducing us to the latest additions to your coven, Fiona. So, what has happened that troubles you so, besides, of course, the activities of the Genoans?"

Fiona looked hesitant once more but, without any encouragement, she replied, "We have an outbreak of newborns on our hands."

If it were possible for a vampire to turn pale, then it would've suited the expression upon Siobhan's face at that moment. Liam and Maggie were also greatly perturbed and looked to Siobhan expectantly, hoping she would tell them what to do. Siobhan, however, appeared to be growing quite upset and took Fiona's hand, holding it tightly. She looked at her forlornly. It scared me, how she was reacting. I knew the situation was dire, but surely, it was fixable. As the anxiety permeated everyone in the room, I spoke up, saying, "What's with the hopeless looks? Surely, together, we can contain a few disorganised, undisciplined newborns?"

Siobhan replied, "I'm sure it is possible, but that is not what upsets me. You see my coven believed the most recent outbreak of killings and disappearances in Connacht was the work of the Genoans, trying to goad the Volturi into coming here. However, we now know that their coven is diminished in numbers, their new mates dead, as Fiona has just shared with me. Both died by your hand I understand, Jason. Your ability is indeed formidable."

"It has quite an Achilles Heel, though. It stops working when I'm afraid."

"Fear can be overcome, as we will do our best to help you with. I see, too, that Sorcha here has an ability. Pyrokinesis, I believe."

Maggie interjected, "She can start and control fires? That would be very effective against newborn vampires."

"Yes, but unless she can control her own newborn instincts, then she won't be much use in a fight."

Sorcha closed her eyes, and her whole body trembled. I could see what Siobhan meant; she couldn't even control her emotions. I also saw that Sorcha had been right to say that I was having an easy time of it. I saw some smoke rise from the carpet at her feet before she stormed off and back into the basement. Her footprints were burnt into the ground, but her shoes seemed undamaged as she left. Siobhan rose one eyebrow and said, "Interesting, she can selectively burn the objects she chooses. Her ability is quite effective, but I stand by my initial assessment." She hesitated for one second and gave Fiona an incredulous look. She asked, "Fiona, do you withhold something from me? I sense you do not reveal the whole truth to me."

Fiona inhaled deeply before answering. "Yes, I do. Before I show you, though, I must have your promise that you will hear us out. I will understand that if afterwards, you choose to leave."

Siobhan looked taken aback and said, "Fiona, you know well we would not abandon you, regardless of the circumstances."

Dermot interjected, "We wouldn't blame you if you did, though. You fear the Volturi's coming here. Why?"

"You know yourself, Dermot. The Volturi are unaware of your aunt's existence. This newborn outbreak will bring them perilously close."

I asked, "Why do you fear for Fiona's safety in particular?"

"It is her ability. She can know anything she wants about anyone she meets. Her ability is much like their leader's, Aro, but she is more powerful because she can maintain a link with a person for a prolonged period of time, and she doesn't always require physical contact to achieve it. She can also gain a sense of other people close to an individual through them. She is the Volturi's Aro, Marcus, and Demetri all rolled into one. Such a gift would be highly coveted by Aro."

"Well, couldn't Fiona just say no to joining them?" The question felt stupid as soon as it left my mouth.

"She could, but as much as the Volturi enforce their laws, they are also not above bending them. They would not hesitate to use Dermot or ourselves against her in order to blackmail her into joining them. With you and Sorcha here as well, it is even more likely that we will draw their attention if they come to Ireland." She sighed and continued, "It is also likely that our prior encounters with the Volturi will not endear us to them very much."

Fiona asked, "You were involved in a conflict with the Volturi?"

"We were merely witnesses on behalf of the Olympic Coven in regards a dispute between them and the Volturi. Although, had they succeeded in their show trial, I imagine they would not have hesitated to make an example of us."

I looked to the ground in despair. We'd have to tell them. We had to let them know what they were getting themselves into. The chances were that Sophia and Carina had covered their tracks well and that we would be the only possible suspects in this outbreak, just as they had planned. The Volturi would then punish us, and Ireland would be cleared of any permanent vampire residents, leaving them free to claim it. I looked to Dermot and then Fiona. I stepped forward, indicating to them that I would break the worst of the news. "Siobhan, there is a connection between our coven, and the outbreak."

Siobhan looked appalled and said, "Explain."

"I believe my sister is responsible for it."

Siobhan released Fiona's hand and took a few steps away from her. She eyed her angrily, looking her up and down, and said, "Fiona! Please tell me you are not responsible for her creation because if you are, then there is no hope. The Volturi will descend upon us, and they will destroy us for allowing a newborn to run wild in this country." I was about to interrupt, but she raged on. "You realise how serious this is, don't you? Ireland's murder rate is extremely low, it will be difficult for them to contain this quietly and to pass it off as something the human public will believe. You have created an almost untenable situation for them. They shall be most unforgiving. Our deaths will not be quick nor painless…"

I had to shout to be heard after trying to interject several times. "She didn't create her. The Genoans did."

She only glanced away from Fiona for a fraction of a second before starting on her again. "Then did you take responsibility for her like you did her brother? It's the same difference, you know that."

Exasperated now, I replied on her behalf, "No, the Genoans changed her in order to lure us into a trap. They knew I would come to her aid and bring Fiona and Dermot with me. When we reached her, they had us surrounded. They were planning to destroy all of us and eliminate the competition. We managed to fight them off, killing Danny in the process. However, Chloe just ran off while we were distracted. She has been almost impossible to track."

Finally, Siobhan's attention was focused on me. She asked, "And have you any idea why she's doing this?"

"No, why do you ask?" I thought it was plainly obvious that she was an out-of-control newborn.

"Well, her behaviour is unnatural for a newborn. Can you think of anything that might have triggered it?"

"No, ah…" Then, a memory flashed in my mind. It was that brief moment before my final confrontation with Danny when I saw Carina kneeling beside my catatonic sister. She whispered something. I remembered the words. I spoke them over and over in my mind before speaking them aloud. "_Is est vicis_."

Siobhan, bewildered, asked, "What?"

"Ah, during our fight with the Genoans, I saw Carina speaking those words to my sister. It was not long after that that she disappeared on us."

Maggie said, "_Is est vicis_…it's Latin. It means 'It is time.'."

Dermot asked, "Well, what does that mean? What is it time for? And why whisper something like that to someone?"

No one answered immediately. Then, Fiona's eyes widened and she uttered, "Because that was Chloe's trigger. I can't believe it."

"What?" Several of us asked simultaneously.

"It's been dangling in front of me the whole time, but I just hadn't considered it. This is all Carina's doing."

"I don't understand," said Dermot.

"She's using Chloe to achieve their goals. Her power is to create delusions, make people believe falsehoods. When they first found Chloe, Danny bit her and while she was weak and suggestible, Carina implanted a complex suggestion into her mind. She is making her run from us, create these newborns, and attract the Volturi's attention, and that phrase was what prompted her into action. It's also why she was catatonic at first when she was changed. Carina probably did that so when a fight inevitably broke out that she'd be able to get to her, and we wouldn't be paying as much attention."

Siobhan asked, "But their goals remain the same?"

"_Her_ goals. I sense that for the first time in millennia, her and Sophia have parted ways."

"Why?" I asked.

"I am unsure. I think Carina has found a way to shield some of herself from me. I keep getting false memories and thoughts from her that I can see past, but not before more of them pop up to replace them. She's trying to hide only a few key truths, one of which is Sophia's reasons for leaving the country."

"Can you get past them with time, do you think?"

She narrowed her eyes in concentration but shook her head in the negative. She said, "No, perhaps if less time and distance separated us, she wouldn't be able to hide these things from me. She must also be very close to Chloe and the newborns. I get the same false information when I try to see Chloe, Chloe knows where she is, but Carina is preventing me from knowing her location by feeding me false images and thoughts through her. Along with shielding her from my probing, I imagine she's maintaining Chloe's deluded state."

"Do you think she's also telling Chloe to prey on children?"

"It's likely, but I can't be sure."

Siobhan stepped forward once more and said, "Excuse me, did you say children?"

I became wary of this topic, perhaps the most difficult of all to swallow. Fiona and Dermot, too, looked apprehensive. Siobhan looked to each of us with an expectant glare, waiting for us to clarify what I imagined she'd already surmised herself. I found myself, once again, on the hot seat, I replied, "Yes, we know Chloe has changed one child who was only four years old. Several other children and teenagers have also gone missing. We believe they've been changed, too, as their feeding victims turn up dead, their bodies burned. The children have not been found, however,"

"So you're telling me that not only have we a newborn outbreak right on our doorstep with them virtually waving and shouting at the Volturi, but some of these newborns are _Immortal Children_?"

I nodded in the affirmative. Siobhan looked gobsmacked, Maggie was panicked, and Liam looked sterner than ever. I then said, trying to deflect the conversation away from this chilling fact before another row began, "My sister was only nine when she was changed. She's undoubtedly having a hard time with it, but it's clear that Carina is pulling the strings. Can we prove that the Genoans are behind this?"

Siobhan looked very ruffled as she replied, "I…I do not believe we can. They have planned this well. If Carina leaves the newborns and your sister to their own devices when she's confident the Volturi will arrive to intervene, then we will be the only possible suspects. I daresay the Volturi will relish the opportunity to punish us for our intervention on behalf of our friends in Washington. The only way out that I can see is to reveal Fiona's ability, which of course leads us back to the whole issue of how unscrupulous the Volturi can be when it comes to acquiring abilities such as hers."

Dermot asked, "But what if the Volturi had no reason to come?"

"I don't understand."

"Like we agreed earlier, it is possible for us to contain the situation. If we eliminate the newborns and subdue Chloe and Carina, then we can offer Aro that Genoan bitch who he's been pining after for centuries. He'll know just by touching her what the truth is, won't he?"

"Yes, however this plan still leaves us exposed. Aro will still want to acquire Fiona and probably Jason, Sorcha, and Chloe as well."

"I suppose those of us already known to the Volturi and who don't have abilities could present Carina to the Volturi. Her ability can work on several people at once, but I think she really has to focus on a single strong-minded person to have any effect."

Siobhan pursed her lips as she considered Dermot's plan. She glanced over to the other members of her coven and then to each one of us. She cast her gaze towards the floor as she said, "I suppose that is our best option." Then she shrugged her shoulders and puffed out her chest, straightening her stance before saying, "I think I've made it clear how serious the situation is already. However, these Immortal Children make this a far greater infringement of Volturi laws than has been committed in centuries, perhaps even since the beginning of their reign. To create several Immortal Children and even worse, to have them running free, is a crime of the highest order and a worst-case scenario for the Volturi, especially in modern times when it is so pivotal to keep the secret. I can only stress to you how bad the repercussions could be if we fail, how badly it will end for us."

We all nodded, but I felt hollow inside, like the floor had fallen out from under me. The stakes were so high, and the odds were not in our favour. So many things had to go exactly right. We had to kill all the newborns, including the Immortal Children. We had to capture Chloe and get her, Sorcha, Fiona, and myself away from the fight so as not to draw the greedy eyes of Aro. We had to capture Carina and have something to offer or all would be lost. The situation would be made simpler if we had nothing to lose. If none of us had any special talents, then Aro could touch any one of us and find out the truth without us needing Carina. However, he had to find out the truth from her and only her. Her knowledge of us was less intimate and even if he did ask about us, we could always bargain off Carina in exchange for our freedom_. So many ifs and maybes, so many criteria that had to be met for us to escape this unharmed, so many ways this could go horribly wrong_. I tried to think positive, but it was made more difficult every time I realised how precarious our circumstances were. It was like we were all walking along a tightrope suspended over a deathly canyon, one misstep by any of us, and we all fall. We had to work perfectly in unison to achieve our goals or else only some of us, or none of us, were coming back. One thing was certain in my mind, though; everyone could die, including myself, as long as I saved my sister. That was the truth of it. As much as I regretted their involvement, the lives of the others were secondary to that goal.

Several hours later and everyone had begun to relax a little. Fiona and Dermot were catching up with Siobhan and the others whilst I made use of the shower once more. The water's impurities didn't bother me so much this time. My anxiety, anger, and anguish created a haze of blackness around me that drifted aimlessly about the bathroom, feeding me useless information about the objects within it. I supposed it was my mind's way of siphoning off the excess of my emotions, keeping my head clear. I found myself replaying the events of the past few weeks, wondering what I could've done differently to change the present. What if I'd called in sick to work that fateful day I met Danny and Sophia to take care of Chloe? Knowing Danny, though, he'd have tried to track me down eventually. So what if I hadn't left her? I should've been stronger for her, to protect her. Yet, I knew myself what would've happened had I remained those first few days after my change. I was right to get as far away as possible. Yet, I still questioned if I stayed away too long. As soon as I was in control of my hunger, I should've returned. I couldn't have known what Danny and his coven would do, but I should've anticipated some sort of reprisal for my killing Julian. I was so busy blaming myself that I hadn't noticed the water temperature change as I used up all the hot water. A knock resounded on the bathroom door as I switched off the shower. I heard the concern in Fiona's voice as she asked, "Are you okay in there, Jason? You've been in there for nearly two hours."

"I'm good."

"Do you need anything?"

"Just some privacy, I'm going to my room unless you need me for anything." I didn't sound harsh saying that, just resigned. Fiona seemed to understand that.

I dried myself and donned my fresh clothes quickly. Fiona was still waiting as I exited the bathroom. She said, "I'm sorry. I know you want to be alone right now, and trust me, if it were Dermot out there instead of your sister, then I'd feel the same. Still, when you're ready, Siobhan and Liam want to help you and Sorcha refine your abilities. I think Dermot will return soon with Isolde, too."

Isolde was Dermot's mate from Wales. Dermot had gone up north to meet her. Apparently, the strong storms rolling up from the south had thrown her off course a bit whilst she swam across the Irish Sea. Meaning to come ashore just south of Dublin, she'd actually ended up nearer to Dundalk in County Louth. Suffice it to say that she didn't know Ireland very well and had neglected to look at a map before leaving. Dermot had instructed her to stay put in the countryside outside of town and that he'd meet her there. Assuming he found her straight away, he should have only needed half an hour to get there and back. He'd been gone for several hours. No one dwelled too hard on what they were up to for the sake of their own mental wellbeing. Still, just to lighten the mood, I asked, "Are you sure? They seem to be getting awfully side-tracked."

Fiona grimaced and said, "Please, don't. It's hard enough to withstand the innuendos that Siobhan's coming out with."

"Ugh! I am hurt that you could think I would suggest something so vulgar. And I thought you thought more of me. I think I'll just crawl into bed and sob off this attack upon my character." I heard sniggering from the living room. I think I even heard Liam give a short giggle.

Fiona's nostrils flared and she said, "Don't encourage them, Jason."

"Oh the hurt, the horror, the betrayal." More sniggers from down the hall, but no one dared turn and look.

"Okay, Jason, do you want me to hurt you 'cause seriously, I am on the edge right now?"

"Let me think about that. Will I _enjoy_ it?"

Fiona scowled and gave me an almighty slap across the back of my head as unmitigated laughter erupted from the living room. Fiona shouted at me as I disappeared inside the room. "You…you! Ugh! Get yourself ready and get out here in five minutes or else I'm coming in there."

I replied, "Don't worry, Fiona. I'll be ready and waiting."

She was about to explode at me once more when Siobhan shouted to me, "Hey Jason, was it as good as you hoped?"

I answered, "Meh, I've had better spanks."

The laughter was uproarious. Fiona simply shouted at the ceiling and ran passed everyone into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

It was nice to be light-hearted for once but as soon as I was alone in my room and darkness enveloped me, that moment of silliness melted away under the glare of reality. I was lost to my dark moods, my anger, depression, and guilt. The second-guessing of my every choice was like an endlessly turning merry-go-round, I just couldn't stop questioning every past decision despite knowing it could not change the present. Of course, this, in turn, invoked memories, which brought me even more sorrow. As I sunk to the deepest depths of despair, I found myself asking, _Why me? Why did I have to be cursed with this ability? All I ever wanted was to be a different person, a better person, but not like this_.

Fiona had grown more agitated over the following hour as Dermot had not yet returned and was not answering his phone. I, too, had given her some grief about letting Liam and Siobhan help me with my ability. I just didn't want to think about it right then. My ability was what got me here. It might have saved my life on several occasions, but I would've rather died than have my sister in the predicament she was in now. A newborn vampire, very young in human terms, out of control, murdering and changing others, and nothing but a puppet in the hands of Carina.

_Carina, that bitch would suffer a lot worse than that oaf, Danny._

It was another hour before I felt like showing myself. Fiona had abruptly stopped trying to summon me a little while earlier, I guessed she'd discerned the truth of my frame of mind at the time. Sure enough, as soon as I stepped into the living room, Fiona's head shot up to look upon me with sympathetic eyes. She offered me a small smile, but it was too hard to muster one of my own. I just nodded and looked away. I watched Liam help Sorcha with her self-control issues. They were both in front of the fireplace, she was sitting cross-legged and Liam knelt before her. He was trying to get her to use her ability as a means to release her pent-up emotions and to distract her from her hunger. He was obviously succeeding because she seemed a lot calmer than before, especially considering I'd heard her from my room shouting and hissing with every instruction she was given. This was my first time actually hearing Liam speak. His voice was gruff at times but not unpleasant on the ear. He presented her with a dull, greyish bar of metal and said, "This is a lead bar. Lead melts at three-hundred and twenty-seven degrees Celsius. Let's see what you can do."

Sorcha remained sitting and focused her eyes on some spot on the floor between her and Liam. She held the bar tightly in her right hand but then stretched that arm out until her hand was directly above the firepit. I saw that red glow emanating from her hand again, but then, it intensified. From hues of vibrant red, it turned orange, yellow and finally, almost white. The lead dripped out from between her palm and fingers, solidifying as soon as it struck the cold, stone pit. Then. there was a puff of bluish-white smoke, which condensed into iron-filing-sized particles of lead. Liam said, "Impressive, not only did she melt the bar, but she vaporised it. That would require a temperature of eighteen-hundred degrees Celsius."

Siobhan added, "That's more than enough to ignite the venom in a vampire's body. If anyone grapples her, she could set them alight."

Liam said, "And the amazing thing is she is impervious to the heat herself."

"She may be the only vampire who cannot be burned, although you may be at risk if your body is physically torn apart. I would say your ability would cease to protect you in that circumstance."

Sorcha replied, "Such cheery thoughts. Hey, all I know is I'm like fabulous and that those newborns don't stand a chance."

_Modest as always_, I thought. She seemed a lot chirpier now that she'd found something she liked and was good at in this life. She was easily appeased, but she still seemed to have it in for me, flashing me hostile looks every chance she got. I hated the fact that she believed I was having it easy. At first, I thought she was right in that assertion, but it was clear, now that she was calmer, that the losses she'd suffered weren't affecting her nearly as badly as mine were affecting me. Her parents were dead, and she would never be able to see her siblings. Still, she didn't seem too cut up about it now that everyone was admiring her greatness. The death of my family and all that had befallen Chloe was the most horrid, inescapable agony I had ever experienced. Having suffered a similar loss, I expected her anger, but I also expected some grief and sadness to come across also. I knew she had a hard time with her parents, but so did I, and even I felt some pain from losing them. To me, she was nothing but a shallow, ingrate and that was probably why my vague human memories of her had such negative overtones. Still, I did not regret my decision to save her nor did I disagree with Fiona's decision to change her. In the end, she was a valuable asset, if nothing else. As Liam handed Sorcha a teaspoon, Fiona asked, "How's your hunger, Sorcha?"

"Still there but it doesn't consume me as much. It's not the only thought in my mind anymore. Liam's tips on distracting myself through that meditation stuff is great. Still, the superpower takes the edge off, too."

I rolled my eyes and sat down in the armchair behind them. Sorcha must have caught that because she was glaring at me now. I noticed her whole body was giving off a reddish aura. Maintaining such a steady field of heat must have required a lot of her focus, which was how she was distracting herself from her blood cravings. Siobhan turned to me and said, "So, Jason, you say your only weakness is fear?"

"Yes, I need the will to fight to rouse my ability. Any hint of fear takes away from that, renders it completely useless."

"Well, being afraid in situations such as these is to be expected."

"I don't think it'll be a problem, though. I'll have no problem wanting to fight for my sister."

Fiona interrupted, "Yet, fear has gotten the better of you before, when you feared murderers were breaking into your home."

I should've known she'd remember that one instance. I replied, "I was human, then. It's different now."

"Yet, a moment's hesitation could lose you your ability and leave you open to attack."

"I'm hardly defenceless without my power."

Siobhan said, "We were not suggesting that you are, but you do fear what is coming and what the outcome might be."

"…I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about something happening to Chloe, or myself, or any of you, but like you said, fear is to be expected."

"Yes, but being that it's your greatest weakness, you, more than any of us, must rise above it."

"How do I do that?"

Siobhan moved along the sofa, a bit closer to me. I noticed how irritated Sorcha was that not everyone was not paying attention to her anymore. She was particularly peeved when she reached a new high temperature, the boiling point of silver, as the teaspoon evaporated in her hands, condensed, and formed a molten pool in the pit, and no one but Liam and I saw it. Siobhan said to me, "Fiona tells me the form your ability takes in your mind's eye is an indefinitely-shaped blackness, almost like smoke."

"Yes, I can shape it if I want, but that's its natural form."

"Would you say its sensory element is the weakest aspect of this blackness?"

"Yes, the telekinetic and pyrokinetic sides require a lot more concentration to muster and to wield."

Sorcha suddenly interjected, "You can generate heat, too?"

I eyed her disdainfully and said, "Yes, I can. Needs the worst kinds of physical or emotional pain, but I can do that, _too_."

"Huh, good for you." She looked sullen as if I'd stolen her favourite magic trick, and no one was doing anything about it.

Siobhan, looking very unimpressed, gave Liam a quick look as if to say "control her". Then, she turned to me and said, "What I want you to do is conjure the sensory side of your ability into a form you typically would use."

I considered what she said and the only thing that came to mind was the sensory bubble I often created. Using the minimum of emotive memories, I was able to raise a small bubble around myself and the armchair. I said, "Okay, that's done."

"What can you sense?"

"Everything, the gases in the air, the dust particles, the materials of the armchair. Why?"

"What memory did you use to conjure it?"

"The sensory side doesn't take much. I remembered the pain of a bad fall I had once."

"I want you to think of everyone in this room, as they are now." I was confused, but I complied. The image was neutral so it neither strengthened nor weakened my ability. She then said, "Now, think of Fiona, Dermot, every one of us, torn to pieces, laying upon the ground helpless as we burn."

Everyone seemed taken aback, as was I, but for me, the emotions that wracked me were a series of plusses and minuses upon the blackness. The anger and sadness that image invoked seemed to strengthen parts of the bubble indiscriminately, but the fear of that outcome, the dread, was creating weak spots also. I tried to even out the bubble's intensity without success as Siobhan continued, "Now, think of Chloe standing amongst us, helpless in what she's done to us but still feeling responsible. Think of her crying, think of you not being able to do a thing about it."

The sadness was incapacitating. That particular emotion it seemed could either be my friend or my enemy. The fear remained prevalent, and before long, the weak spots became holes in the bubble. The blackness began to lose its cohesion as it retreated within my mind. Siobhan would not relent, trying her best to prove something I could not fathom. "Think of her hurt now, Jason. Think of her dying. You are still helpless to intervene, there is nothing you can do."

I shook with despair. It was all I could do to stop myself wailing. Venom welled in my eyes anyhow. It never fell as , but it blurred my vision like watery human eyes. The bubble had totally disintegrated, and I was struggling to maintain the remaining thin wisps of blackness against the overwhelming pressure of my emotions. Fiona, registering my distress, said, "Siobhan, perhaps you're taking this too far."

Siobhan silenced her with a hand whilst keeping her gaze focused on me. Very suddenly, she uttered, "Think of Carina standing over her."

I blinked once, clearing the venom from my eyes. I stopped trembling and sat up straight, meeting Siobhan's gaze head-on. My emotions did a one-eighty degree turn from fearfulness and hopelessness to rage. The sensory bubble reformed fully as Siobhan coaxed me along further, "Think of Carina now, Jason. She is responsible. She is her murderer."

Without me willing it, the sensory bubble contracted until it fitted in my cupped hands. I lost touch with the outside world. That sphere of blackness was all that existed. It grew denser and spun round like a rotating globe, pulsing with each complete revolution. It became impenetrably black. Even in my moments of greatest anger, peril, or physical pain, I had never remembered being so focused, so able to control the blackness at this level of intensity. It came so easily now. I ramped it up as much as I possibly could with the power provided to me by my ire. The mind fire burned so hotly that it felt like my head must have been exploding into flames.

Then, there was an unfathomable shift in the blackness.

I had always seen the three elements of my ability as three steps on a ladder. The sensory element was the first step, the easiest to access, and the most passive of the three. The telekinetic element was more difficult to attain. I needed strong emotions or physical pain to rouse it and even then, it could prove difficult to manipulate, especially when I pushed myself like when I'd cut through one of Sophia's barriers. It could also take on a mind of its own such as when it accelerated my change. The third and final step, the pyrokinesis element, required me to be truly enraged, murderous even, like when I'd destroyed Julian. Dire peril seemed to work, too, like when Danny was choking me back in school. For sure, the mind fire meant I could always generate heat, but true pyrokinesis like what Sorcha could do was something I only attained rarely. Yet now, a change in the blackness was clearly afoot. I felt the steps of the ladder draw closer together, intermingle, and coalesce. Suddenly, everything about my ability and it's many quirks and facets was becoming clearer. I understood them more completely and how to access them. The second and third steps seemed not so far out of reach anymore, as if they'd both fallen down to meet the first. Overall, the picture I got of this change was one of restructuring, the neatening of a messy mind. Then, the sphere of blackness deformed and morphed into flames, black flames. They rippled and contorted before shooting straight across the room, barely missing Maggie and Fiona, and blasting through the kitchen window. As it progressed, I sensed everything the flames touched and how they changed them. It appeared as my abilities combined that the sensory side had become the scope on a very powerful rifle, improving my accuracy. The telekinesis had fractured and torn the glass and the window frame, whilst the pyrokinesis had incinerated the remnants.

Everyone was a little shell-shocked, but we all wandered dopily into the kitchen. The glass had shattered into a million salt grain-sized particles that appeared to be glowing with latent heat. The window frame had mostly been blasted away, but the bits remaining were burning, hot embers. We were all still a little stupefied, and it carried in my voice as I said, "I…I'm so sorry, Fiona."

"Ah, it's…okay. I'm sure Dermot can fix it, once everything's cooled down."

"Siobhan, what did you do to me?"

She replied, "Nothing, I merely allowed you to realise the full potential of your ability. I needed to show you how unimportant your fear of the outcome was compared to your anger over the root causes. I'm sure from now on that fear won't hamper your ability as much."

"But…but this…I felt like my mind was reordering itself, like all the aspects of my ability were merging somehow."

"Another misconception you have. Your ability is not a bunch of separate components like those of a machine. It is more like your ability is a fire, which needs oxygen, fuel, and heat to ignite. You were using the ingredients separately to less effect than what happens when they are combined."

"Clearly!" Maggie exclaimed.

I said, "I'm sorry if I singed anyone, too."

Maggie replied, "Oh, don't worry. You'll be picking up my next bill at the salon."

Fiona smirked and said, "It seems Siobhan has worked her magic again."

Siobhan sighed and rolled her eyes at the same time. Maggie and Liam looked amused whilst Sorcha and I were completely bewildered. Then, a thought struck me and I asked, "Does Siobhan have an ability?"

"No, I do not." She replied.

"Yes, you do." Fiona retorted.

"Hoping for the best is not an ability."

"We both know it's more than that."

Sorcha, like a spoiled child, asked whiningly, "Cut it out, what can she do?"

Fiona replied, "Everyone believes that she can manipulate the outcome of a situation to her liking. She basically wants something to happen a certain way and so it does."

Siobhan snorted and shook her head. Fiona continued with an example. "Like when you told me about introducing Maggie to the coven." She turned to her and Liam and said, "Come on you lot, help me out here. Am I right in saying that you two didn't react well to each other to begin with?"

Liam replied, "I suppose so."

Maggie said, "Ha! Understatement."

"And that Siobhan wanted you both to get along? That she wanted the situation to work out?" They both nodded before Fiona asked her final question. "And that, suddenly, without much conscious effort by either of you to mend the fence, you both just…got along?" She eyed Siobhan accusingly.

Siobhan replied, "Please, that is not an ability. It just means I'm good at resolving conflict."

"Ahuh, just like how you wanted Sorcha to find a way to gain a measure of self-control, and she and Liam come up with the heat field in two hours."

Sorcha, once again, interrupted, "Hey, I like to think that that was the result of some real effort and clever thinking on my part."

An "ugh" of derision escaped my mouth before I could even think about it. Sorcha looked at me with an offended expression, which quickly transformed into one of fury. Fiona smirked for perhaps half a second but did not look at Sorcha directly. She said, "And what just happened with Jason, even he doesn't know what went on in his mind. All of a sudden, it just sorted itself out all by itself."

Siobhan narrowed her eyes and said, "Oh Fiona, this age-old argument is pointless, will you ever give up?"

Ignoring her question, she said, "I bet, as well, that you intervened on behalf of the Olympic Coven when the Volturi came as more than just a witness."

"Oh, _I_ give up."

"No, you don't, not until you admit I'm right."

"Fine then, I am the almighty goddess, Siobhan. I have power over all you say and do. I bend the fabric of reality to my will. I see to it that the course of events always goes my way. Do not cross me, for your troubles will be many, ten years of bad luck and whatnot, bewitching and cursing, the whole shebang. Happy now?"

Fiona just smiled but then, she bent her knee and dipped her head, saying, "Oh goddess, Siobhan. We now comprehend your greatness and beseech thee, what offering might we bring to appease you? Shall we kneel and prostrate before you? A rain dance perhaps?"

Siobhan looked sickened, but Fiona just continued to smile as though she expected an honest answer to her questions. Siobhan said, "Sarcastic much?"

"I learned from the best."

Siobhan threw her arm around Fiona's shoulders and pulled her close before rubbing the top of her head with her free hand. Fiona exclaimed, "Hey! Don't mess my hair just 'cause you got served."

Siobhan was about to reply when we all heard footfalls off in the distance, drawing nearer. There were definitely two vampires approaching that I could discern. Fiona's jokey smile faded before her face contorted, and she said, "I'm gonna kill him."

She stormed towards the front door just as Dermot stepped inside. Fiona was about to scold him when she saw his serious expression. She stopped for a moment, seemingly zoned out, before saying, "Oh no."

Siobhan stepped forward, looking at both of them imploringly. Fiona placed a hand upon Siobhan's shoulder as if to steady herself. They both looked grave and petrified. It was killing me not knowing what this was about. Then, with Fiona passing on the information with her ability, Siobhan joined them in their dejected state. She said, "Oh my, this really is bad."

I couldn't take it anymore. I asked, "What? What's going on?"

Then, Isolde stepped forward from behind Dermot. She was a tall, slender vampire with flowing blonde hair, big eyes, but a small nose and a weak jaw. Dermot took her hand in his and said, "We better pray for some infighting if there's to be any hope of 'Plan A' working."

"I don't understand."

"This mess is a lot bigger than we thought."


	9. Chapter 9  Intermezzo

**9. INTERMEZZO**

"Are you certain?" I asked Dermot, hoping against hope that this was a gross overestimation of the threat we faced.

He replied, "I am. There can be no doubt of what we saw. We spied on them for hours."

Siobhan said, "So many, how has this not been reported on the news?"

Dermot replied, "They seem to be targeting people whose disappearances won't be noticed, people who won't be missed."

"Still though, I do not believe a newborn army of this magnitude has ever been created. I doubt it could be held together without the influence of both Carina and your sister, Jason."

I asked desperately, "Did you see her, Dermot? Was she with them?"

He replied, "I thought I got her scent from time to time. It was just a trace, though. She didn't show herself while we were there."

"And Carina?"

"She was there, hanging around the periphery of the group. We left when we started hearing her mind games inside our heads, in case we were discovered. I'll tell you, though, she has them well and truly wrapped around her finger. They're so docile and compliant. They're more like automatons than newborns."

Fiona said, "You showed me that you came across smaller groups, too."

"Yeah, hunting parties. Carina sends them out maybe five at a time to hunt and gather humans to be changed. She seems to have rewired their minds completely, planted a whole load of powerful suggestions. They wouldn't be this obedient otherwise."

"And she changes them."

"Yeah, even she can't control their hunger. They can't stop feeding once they've started." Fiona closed her eyes and shivered. Everyone else was less perturbed. There was a moment of silence before Dermot asked, "So, is our game plan still the same?"

Everyone looked at each other sideways, but no one responded except for a few non-committal shrugs. I guess we were all overwhelmed. Apparently, this army was of a like never before seen in the history of vampires.

There were sixty of them, ten of which were Immortal Children.

In the Southern Vampire Wars in Mexico and the Southern States, covens of older vampires once fought for territory by creating newborn armies with which to destroy their rivals. Yet, including their creators, such an army might number from fifteen to twenty-five at most. The army we faced was more than twice that size, and we only numbered eight. No one answered Dermot's last question because no one knew how we were going to deal with such a threat. We had planned for an average-sized newborn army and that we would still have the edge in discipline and good tactics in the face of their greater physical strength. We also counted on mine and Sorcha's abilities to severely decimate their numbers. We had none of that anymore. Their numbers were overwhelming, discipline was being forced upon them by Carina, and our hit-and-run tactics depended upon them being disorganised, haphazard fighters. Our abilities might still count for something, but they'd be no good if any of them got close, which with sixty adversaries, was likely.

With everyone's confidence drained and nothing more to be said, we dispersed, each of us seemingly finding our own separate corner to occupy. Dermot did introduce Isolde to Fiona, and she certainly became more animated when Dermot revealed that she was older than herself. Even though she was eighteen when she was turned, it was 1943 when it happened. Fiona maintained a polite manner, but I knew in her head she was thinking "cradle snatcher".

The members of the Irish Coven continued to help Sorcha and I refine our abilities, as it became a lot more important that we be effective as possible in using them. Sorcha worked to expand the heat field beyond her immediate vicinity and raise its temperature so she could attack multiple targets. I tried something similar with the blackness, creating an expanding bubble of burning, black flames. Fiona demanded that we practice outside, though.

During our conversations, Maggie revealed she had an ability, too. She could tell instantly if someone was lying. From then on, I started referring to her as "Miss Polygraph", which she didn't appreciate. She got me back by asking some very personal questions and forcing me to answer. It didn't matter if I was truthful or not because she'd know anyway. After several references to my manhood, sexual preferences, and whether or not I found Maggie attractive (all of which had embarrassing outcomes), I retreated in shame to my room. The sniggering outside didn't stop for quite a while, despite the oppressiveness of our situation. I fell onto the bed and heard everyone outside conversing, trying to socialise, for it might be their last chance.

It was mine, too, and I supposed I should have been out there as well. It was all too easy to slip into my dark moods while I was alone. A few times, I'd made for the door but at the last second, I was dissuaded by news reports on the television. Everyone watched in a terrible silence as the authorities were finally finding out just how many people had vanished over the past several days. Many were people who lived alone in isolated houses, or who traversed acres of land, working the fields and herding animals. As the scale of this disaster became more apparent, it was clear that the Volturi would make their way here as fast as possible to quell this outbreak for fear that the secret would be revealed. Siobhan said that she couldn't imagine them standing for this much longer. I listened in on what she said. "…We can expect Alec and Jane for definite. They need them to contain the newborns whilst others, like Demetri and Felix, destroy them and burn what's left. I think, though, that they will send more than this to put down such a massive outbreak."

Dermot asked, "If it comes to it, could we defend ourselves from them if they decide to punish us?"

Siobhan gave a snort and said, "I would much rather it didn't come to that because if it does, they would certainly prevail. Of course, Jason's and Sorcha's abilities might buy us some time, but they, like us, are in no way immune to the powers of the Witch Twins."

Fiona interrupted with a serious tone, "Then again, we always have you if the situation gets out of hand. Could you not just _will_ them away?" There was a short silence. I imagined a smile crossing her face right about then.

Siobhan replied, "Don't start."

I wondered out past them to the kitchen at one stage. I wasn't feeling any desire to be near them, to talk with them at that moment, but I was also tiring of sitting in a dark room by myself. Either alternative seemed unappealing, knowing what was coming, so I chose the middle ground. I stood, leaning against the kitchen sink with my back to the still smouldering window, staring into the living room. Vampire's have a restless existence, one that requires any number of distractions to stave off boredom. My ability served that purpose very well, but the others were not as fortunate. In order not to dwell upon the looming battle, Fiona had broken out a number of board games. She, Maggie, and Siobhan played scrabble on an aged board placed upon her coffee table. I saw from a small inscription on the box that it had been purchased back in the Seventies. Each one of them were like walking, talking dictionaries as they spread words across the board like "modulus", "phylum", and "statin" and were able to define each of them. I had only played scrabble a few times in my life, and I would've been happy if I'd gotten a word like "pants". As they moved on to their next round, after finishing the first in less than thirty minutes, I was dissuaded from joining them for fear I'd be crushed.

My attention wandered for a moment until I noticed Liam playing with a deck of cards. He was building a pyramid out of the cards upon the top of a cabinet in the corner, something that he might have done several times already for all I knew. It was somehow bewitching to watch a task requiring such delicacy and precision being carried out by a being of such strength as a vampire. I supposed the idea of vampires being in any way brutish or animal-like was a human misconception, at least most of the time. Dermot and Isolde were out of sight. I could hear them in his room but fortunately for all of us, they were doing nothing inappropriate. I supposed Fiona had Dermot warned that he'd be taking his own life into his hands if he got up to any funny business under this roof. I had to smile at her prudishness, but then again, this situation merited it.

Sorcha was at the far side of the sitting room from me, standing by the front door. Despite our differences, I thought she had come to the same decision as me: watch but don't get involved. She was however running her heat field very hot. It had gone from its usual red glow to forming a yellow haze in the space around her. She intentionally didn't make direct contact with any surface, or extend the field around her feet, in case she damaged something else. I eyed her for a moment, and she could clearly feel my gaze upon her as her expression looked strained. My human memories of her had become clearer the more I'd been around her. Her parents had brought her and her siblings up my home in Kilkee when I was a young child for visits. Her parents, our grandaunt and granduncle, were very kindly people who spoiled my siblings and me with presents every time they saw us, much to my mother's disapproval. They had three other children besides Sorcha, the eldest was a boy, and there were two other girls. They were always very patient with Kevin, Chloe, and I and made an effort to interact with us, despite nearly being adults themselves. Sorcha was their youngest, only two years older than I, younger than Kevin had been. I remembered her as a troublemaker, an attention-seeker, and a tantrum-thrower. She would pick up things in the house and drop them to see how they would break, or she would hurl them at people's heads. She'd run around the house screaming and shouting and a few times, she'd gotten out the front door and tried to run off into the countryside. After only two visits of mayhem, Sorcha either was left at home or spent the whole visit in whatever naughty corner her mother designated.

I remembered also that she used to pick on me, especially. She enjoyed pushing me around because I was so quiet then. I knew there was a reason behind the antagonism I felt in her presence. Her last visit was when I was nine. That day, she had tried to spray me in the eyes with a bottle of surface cleaner. She missed, which gave me the opportunity to grab a bottle of Tabasco sauce and empty it on her head. She ran away crying, of course, but not about how much it burned her eyes and skin; she was upset I'd messed her hair. I was surprised then that it didn't affect her, but now it seemed obvious that her fiery personality made her impervious to anything that shared her nature. We had not so much as laid eyes upon each other between then and that night when I rescued her from Danny's old gang. Through my utter distaste for her, I still could not conceive of doing things differently than I had. She didn't deserve to die, and neither did any of us. My only regret, when it came to Sorcha, was that perhaps I had saved her life only for her to suffer a week of ravenous hunger before ultimately dying anyway at the hands of Carina's newborn army or the Volturi.

Sorcha turned around, so she wouldn't have to feel my eyes on her as much. I heard some commotion from Dermot's room that sounded like furniture being moved about. I hoped they weren't that bad, or that obvious. I caught Fiona checking up on them with her ability, and she seemed satisfied that what they were doing was completely innocent. She even smiled a bit.

A few moments later, we all found out the reason for Fiona's cheerfulness. Isolde entered the sitting room with an acoustic guitar, easily carrying it in one hand. She was followed by Dermot who held a very expensive-looking keyboard under his right arm and a stand for it in his left hand. Fiona, Siobhan, and Maggie stood and faced them as they setup next to Liam. He swiftly moved, but deftly, he gathered all the cards into a neat bundle and returned them to their packet. Dermot gave me one of his cheeky grins as he swooped into the kitchen, grabbing two chairs, and placed one behind Isolde and the other behind his keyboard. They all seemed very happy of this distraction, much more so than the ones they had concocted themselves. Maggie literally jumped up and down with excitement, Fiona looked very approving, and Siobhan gave a wide, beaming smile, which looked almost a little too large for her face. Liam did not really change his expression, but he did seem to appreciate the idea of some song and dance._ Liam dancing…any of them dancing. Now this I've got to see_. I gazed past them towards where Sorcha had been standing. She was no longer there. I listened out and heard her in the front garden. The smell of burning grass soon reached me, and I realised Sorcha was in no humour for this. It was good she didn't remain though because the last thing anyone here needed was a killjoy. For that reason, I stayed in the kitchen because I just couldn't be in any way merry right then.

After a few minutes getting ready, the pair of them started taking requests. Fiona asked for _Aretha Franklin's_ "_Respect_" followed by _Dusty Springfield's_ "_You Don't Have to Say You Love Me_". She was big into the music of the fifties and sixties, but I noticed she did not request even one song from 1969 onwards. I was surprised how good the renditions of these songs were. Isolde was an adept guitar player, and Dermot was extremely handy with the keyboard, his hands darting across the array of controls, producing backing beats and pre-recorded music tracks. His own playing was quite good, too, and he obviously was very technically skilled. He demonstrated this once more when Fiona made her final request, _Roy Orbison's_ "_Pretty Woman_". Their playing was almost flawless, and Isolde was an amazing vocalist. I noticed though that the others weren't that bad at singing either, even though they were only half-singing along most of the time. I thought that perhaps this was just another quirk vampire's had, the change in the talking voice also bettered their singing voices. I used to sing like a crow with tonsillitis, so I imagined my voice couldn't have improved that much.

When someone else finally got a request in, it was Maggie, and her taste was decisively more modern. She was big on the Eighties, requesting everything from _Guns N' Roses_ to _Belinda Carlisle_. I considered retreating into the garden and joining Sorcha when she asked for "_Venus_" by _Bananarama_. Fortunately, Dermot only laughed at her and said he wouldn't taint his instrument by playing that song. Maggie pouted, but eventually she made a less nauseating request.

Even though vampires can't get drunk, and no one was consuming anything but blood, it seemed to be having a similar effect as everyone was overfeeding. The singing turned to shouting out of tune, and the dancing become more and more uncoordinated. Several trinkets and decorate vases were knocked along with a large potted plant, but Fiona no longer seemed to care. It lightened my mood to see them all letting go of our current troubles and having fun. As I predicted, watching Liam dance was the most amusing of the lot. He shuffled his feet awkwardly as he tried to do some clumsy version of Irish dancing with Siobhan. She was a lot more graceful which compensated for his ungainliness a bit. He seemed embarrassed, but Siobhan only had to give him one of her beaming smiles, and he relaxed a bit. Lost in each other's eyes, they kissed. The whistling then ensued.

Arms locked together, Liam and Siobhan and Fiona and Maggie tried their hand at some more Irish dancing. They shoved the sofa aside with a seemingly gentle nudge to make room. They were now requesting old Irish songs like "_I'll Tell Me Ma_" and "_The Wild Rover_". They all decided, seemingly without words, to alter the lyrics of another Irish song, "_Some Say the Devil is Dead_" by the _Wolfe Tones_. They sang, "_Some say the devil is dead, the devil is dead, the devil is dead. Some say the devil is dead and buried in Killarney. More say he rose again, more say he rose again, more say he rose again and joined the Volturi Guard_." It didn't exactly fit the tune, I could tell, but the original lyrics eluded recall.

It went on like that until the early hours of the morning. It was three before everyone took a seat again. Still, the party wasn't over. Dermot coaxed a few of the others to take over the vocals for a few songs. Maggie and Fiona were rather enthusiastic, but Siobhan simply replied, "I don't do karaoke."

Isolde, not knowing Liam well, tried to encourage him to join in. He only gave a grunt as if to say "not likely". Maggie did quite a beautiful rendition of _Keane's_ "_Somewhere Only We Know_" whilst Fiona tried her best at _Patsy Cline's_ "_Crazy_". It was clear that Fiona was not a singer in her human life as her voice as a vampire could only be considered average. Clearly though, Maggie, Isolde, and Dermot must have had fairly good voices to begin, for now they sang without flaws and were always in tune. As Fiona took her seat again, Dermot's eyes strayed towards me, and the thing I feared most would happen came to pass. He said, "Hey Jason, do you think you might give us a performance?"

My expression in that moment was probably akin to a rabbit caught in the headlights. I shook my head vigorously and said, "Ah, no, I don't want to hurt anyone's ears."

He replied, "Nonsense, as a vampire, you must have a half-decent voice at the very least."

"Still, I think it's for the best that no one have the experience of me slaughtering some classic tune."

"Get off of it, don't be shy. We're all friends here."

Maggie added, "I assure you that our criticisms will be entirely constructive." She winked at me, and I gave her a very peeved look.

Feeling cornered, I tried desperately to come up with more excuses. "But I don't know any song words." A total lie, which Dermot saw right through.

"Jason, you ain't foolin' me. Come on. Just one song and we promise to be kind."

I thought frantically. One voice in my head was urging me to refuse outright and leave the room, but everyone was enjoying the night, and I didn't want to spoil it for them, drawing them back to more gloomy thoughts. There were a lot of songs I knew the words of, but I generally only hummed them for fear I'd cause temporary deafness to any innocent bystanders. A lot of the songs I knew were dreary and depressing or very, very loud. My taste consisted mainly of all levels of Rock; hard rock, soft rock, pop rock, country rock, metal, grunge, and so on. Filtering through all of them in my head, I tried to come up with a song choice that was within my vocal range and didn't require me to shout the lyrics. Nothing immediately came to mind, but then, a vague memory of a random track I downloaded in my human life started to surface. It was odd. At the time, it seemed so unimportant but now, this mundane memory was rising from the hazy depths of my human recollections straight to the forefront of my mind. Then, I uttered in an almost airy voice, "Ah, Dermot, can you play the _Smashing Pumpkins'_ version of '_Landslide_'?" Dermot stared back at me as though I'd just asked him did he have arms. Isolde, too, seemed bemused by my question, as though I should already know the answer to be yes.

Eventually, he replied, "Of course, me and Isolde love the _Smashing Pumpkins_. Babe, how about you cover the cords on this one, and I'll deal with the backing." Fiona's features contorted for a split second at the utterance of the word "babe" from Dermot's lips.

"Cool, you ready, Jason?" Gywneth asked. I nodded, and she said, "Okay, and a one, two, three, four…"

She began playing a series of notes on her guitar that rose and dropped in pitch. It was a melody that, to me, was not uplifting or reassuring but perhaps carried a sense of acceptance of the hand life has thrown you. As I sang my first lyrics, I thought they added a hint of uncertainty.

"_I took my love, I took it down. I climbed a mountain, I turned around, and I saw my reflection in a snow-covered hill, till a landslide brought it down_."

To my surprise, I wasn't that bad. Fiona was the only one who didn't share my astonishment, perhaps because she knew that I gave myself too little credit in most things.

"_Mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child in my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?_"

As I thought about the lyrics I was singing, I felt a slight burning in my head that was becoming more insistent. It wasn't hard to rein in, but I didn't understand exactly why this song stirred such a response in me. I sang on with a note of hesitation.

"_Well, I've been afraid of changing 'cause I…built my life around you. Time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I'm getting older, too_."

As Dermot played a short interlude using the Spanish guitar analogue on his keyboard, it became clear why these lyrics were getting to me. Some just seemed to remind me the experiences I'd had in the past several weeks. "Ocean tides", for instance, was an uncomfortable reminder of my exile in the Atlantic. Yet, the words of the chorus resonated the most with me. I had been afraid of changing, of accepting the new course my life had took, as my delusions of Fionn so often reminded me. As I repeated the chorus for a second time straight after the instrumental break, I felt slightly goaded by the irony of some of the lyrics. I had built my life around a single person, Chloe, for I had no one else to look out for. Even when both my parents were around, I was still the one she came to for everything. When she fell and cut her knee, she wouldn't come crying to my dad for help, even though he was a doctor. I had even attended several of her school plays in place of my parents, as they were too busy. I'd even been sent to a parent-teacher meeting by my mother not long before she died, which was an extremely awkward experience. Yet because I was always there, because I did my best for her, Chloe trusted me, and regardless of whatever mitigating circumstances there may have been, the fact was that I had failed her and broken that trust. I hadn't protected my baby sister, the only person in my life who was important, and she continued to be in mortal danger as I just sat there singing.

I hoped no one sensed how emotional I was becoming as I finished the second chorus. The lyrics were now gouging into me painfully with their talons of irony, the last line especially. "_Time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I'm getting older, too_." Maybe I had become emboldened by this experience to a somewhat greater degree than I had been in my human life, yet it had done me little good. The second line really dug in deep, wrenching at my very soul. Chloe was a child, but she would never get older, never have any of the experiences that growing up brought, assuming of course that she lived past the next few days. Nor was I getting older. I supposed I would always pass for a secondary school student, but I could forget college or a career. I would spend my existence drifting about, doing odd jobs, and moving on for fear I'd grow too attached to a place and its people, thereby attracting the wrong sort of attention.

I finished my song, emotion rife in my voice at this stage. "_I took my love, I took it down. I climbed a mountain, I turned around. And if you see my reflection in a snow-covered hill, a landslide brought it down…a landslide brought it down._"

As the music faded, all eyes were on me in silence. I stared resolutely at the floor for several long minutes before lifting my head and smiling weakly before rushing out of the room into Fiona's back garden. I heard nothing but silence behind me, and I realised that without meaning to, I'd crushed the life out of the party with everyone back to dwelling upon our grim situation. As I ran into the garden, I found myself traversing a cobblestone path that led to an ornamental fountain. I stopped beside it and leaned against it, even though I didn't need the support. I found myself breathless, though I couldn't possibly be as a result of exertion. I looked up towards the sky as if to hold in tears that were non-existent but still, it felt as though I'd well up any second. I stumbled forward a bit more and stared into the copse that surrounded Fiona's home. The path continued past the fountain towards a small shed with a tin roof. The tree limbs dangled just above it, and roots were pushing against a stone wall that separated the property from the trees. Flower beds lined the rim of the garden and hanging baskets camouflaged the unsightly shed from view. I imagined this place would be far easier on the eye in the height of summer. However, as I looked around and gazed into the woods, I saw only despair and lifelessness. I heard the clap of thunder and saw fresh storm clouds rolling in from the west. At that moment, I wished dearly that a landslide would come and sweep me up, burying me safe away from the torment.

That notion grew even more desirable as I heard Fiona approaching.

I didn't particularly want to be comforted right then, or have to hear any words of consolation, sympathy, or thinly-veiled pity. No one was going to convince me that I was not in some way responsible for Chloe's predicament. Fiona, however, did not say any of these things, she, in fact, said something worse. "It's going to be okay, Jason."

"Ahuh, you may say that now, but you _can't_ know that."

If I wasn't in bits already, her comment brought me straight back to all the uncertainty, the complex series of events that would allow a good outcome, and the many ways each one of those things could possibly go wrong. She replied, "No, I can't, but we must not give up hope, Jason. Right now, it's all we got."

"Yeah, all we've got going for us."

"That's not what I meant. We're going to get her back."

"No, we won't."

"Jason…"

"I mean even if we get her back, it'll only be in the physical sense. I'd say, at the very least, she's gonna come out of this damaged beyond repair. She will not be the same, she won't be my little sister anymore."

"I think you underestimate vampires. We are quite emotional creatures, to a far greater degree than humans, but we are more resilient, also. I think you also underestimate Chloe. She is strong and mature beyond her years. She will come through this in much better shape than you think."

"I-I just wish I could've protected her from all this. I wish she wouldn't have to suffer after all this is over, the memories, the guilt."

"But you'll be there for her. We all will. That kind of support is why she's gonna make it."

Having faced away from her the whole conversation, I turned slowly with my arms folded across my stomach and slouched shoulders as my insides felt as though they'd twist into a braid. This was the first time my body reacted properly to my emotional state, and as a vampire, it felt so much worse to be in this much pain, but at the same time, I was happy to be feeling anything at all. After all, if this went as badly as I believed, despite Fiona's words of reassurance, I knew I wouldn't be feeling a whole lot much longer, except perhaps the burning.

Fiona came closer and placed a hand upon my shoulder and tried to direct me back inside. I went reluctantly, though. As we neared the back door, it swung open, and Isolde stood there with Dermot not far behind. She looked like she was still a little giddy from the party, for she tried, without much success, to hold herself still. She then stepped out onto the cobblestones and said, "I have a plan."

"Do you?" asked Fiona with one cocked eyebrow.

Ignoring her manner, Isolde replied, "Yes, yes I do. We can fight all the vampires at once, but I'll need several things for this to work."

"For what to work?" This time Fiona's voice was a little more strained.

"My battle plan, dummy." Fiona looked like she'd burst a blood vessel if she had one. Dermot stifled a giggle badly with an exaggerated cough. Isolde continued, "I know this will work, and it'll give us a big advantage."

Fiona asked, "Would you mind letting us in on your master plan?" I wondered if Fiona was simply humouring her by asking.

"Not until I know if we can get everything I need, otherwise it's pointless."

"Fine, what is it you need?"

"Okay, for starters I'll need a big field near the newborns, a whole lot of blood, and last but not least, some dynamite…or any high explosive will do."

Stunned expressions crossed everyone's faces, and Fiona's most of all, as she was probably already privy to the details of Isolde's plan. She totally surprised me by replying, "I think that can be arranged."

Isolde's plan was crazy, almost to the point of being comical, but then they always say that the best ideas are mad ones. Dermot and Isolde went out almost immediately to make certain that the newborns had not moved on. They reported back that they had traced them to a small wooded area just east of Lough Ree in Westmeath, exactly where they had been before. Fiona rushed off to the blood banks saying that she could acquire up to twenty gallons of blood if needs be. Maggie went with her to lend a hand. Siobhan, though bemused by the request, said she knew someone in Dublin who could get her the required explosives "off the books". As soon as they had arrived back, Dermot and Isolde were off again to look for a good location to stage the battle. That left Sorcha and I alone in the company of Liam. He began teaching us how to fight newborns and what were the best ways to overcome their superior speed and strength. To me, it seemed rather pointless, as we were newborns ourselves and our abilities could deflect any physical attack, but he insisted we learn some hand-to-hand combat techniques. He said, "There are a few things you have to keep in mind when fighting newborns. Firstly, do not grapple with them for obvious reasons. They can crush even you two…"

I replied, "I already know. I've had that experience."

"Then what I'm about to tell you will stop you getting into that position in the first place. As you know, _most_ newborns are volatile, undisciplined, and nearly impossible to control. They are also insane with their thirst for blood. This means they can be dispatched easily, if you know what you're doing…"

Sorcha interrupted, "But we've already said that these ones are different because of Carina's and Chloe's influence."

"We've also said that Carina and Chloe can only do so much. It is impossible for them to completely restrain their most basic instinct, their hunger. Overwhelmed by that temptation, they will break free of their bewitchment and revert back to the half-animals they should be."

I replied, "Which is why we need all the blood."

"Indeed. Now, once they lose themselves to their hunting instincts, they will be unable to focus, distracted as they will be by the overpowering odour of blood. It is then that these simple tactics will be most effective: move fast, strike, and keep moving. Do not stop for anything, just hit and run. This will confuse them, and leave them unable to retaliate with any efficacy."

I considered what he said for a few moments and then asked, "You say hit and run. How exactly should we be hitting them, like take a swipe and gradually wear them down or go for the kill straight off the bat?"

"Preferably both."

"…I don't understand."

"What I mean is don't go for the obvious kill, they may be wild and unfocused but like any common animal, they know to defend their weak spots, show you their strongest side, and not let you get near enough to land a fatal blow. That is why you must be more cunning than they and do your best to throw them off. That said, whilst I would advise attrition rather than a frontal assault when facing a newborn, if an opportunity to take them down in a single strike presents itself, do not hesitate. Remember, they will be very, very distracted." I nodded in comprehension whilst Sorcha chose to just continue staring. Liam then said, "We will practice a little in the field across the way, I doubt Fiona would like us thrashing around in her well-manicured gardens."

In the next hour, Liam showed us some basic takedowns and strikes that would be effective against the newborns. He also showed us how to evade their swipes and tackles, which were the attacks we would most likely face. I found it very helpful, yet Sorcha seemed less enthusiastic. She didn't say it out loud, but I believed she thought this was pointless when she had her ability to fight with, which she sought to demonstrate when Liam succeeded in pinning her, and she expanded her heat field enough to force him to let go. Liam was not impressed, saying that it would take mere fractions of a second for a newborn to rip her head off to which she retorted that she could burn them to a cinder before ever that happened. Liam departed thereafter to change his singed clothes leaving us alone together. Her arrogance irritated me and as I tried to walk past her, it must have been obvious in my expression, for she stopped me with an outstretched arm and said, "And what might your problem be?"

"I have many. At the moment, the most pressing is being alone in your company, so get out of my way, _now_."

"Or what?"

"Or we'll see whose ability is greater."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Why not, I think someone needs to teach you some humility, and respect."

"Ahuh, whatever, I don't give a fuck what you or anyone else thinks of me. I'll do things how I want, when I want because I can, and I won't let any of you lot tell me otherwise. It's not like you have any authority over me."

I had a strange déjà vu feeling, and something similar that my mother said the night she died sprung to mind. I sneered at her and replied, "Wow, you can so tell you're from my mother's side."

"What?" She sounded offended but confused as to what I was getting at.

"Never mind. Just stop getting in my face, okay." She continued to get in my way as I tried to leave.

She asked, "Why, Jason? Do you feel guilt looking at me? After all, you've robbed me of any normal existence, and now I have to watch you prance about like this whole vampire-deal is just a breeze."

Heat coursed through me, exploding in my skull. The blackness erupted from its recess and extended outward as flames the colour of darkest coal. They danced and flared in front of my face before shooting outward and striking Sorcha, pummelling her into the ground. A hole had been gouged out of the earth in which she now laid, but the heat of the flames had not touched her, just as Siobhan had theorised. She was unharmed, just frazzled, but, of course, she would never let that go. She tried to engulf me in a plume of superheated air that she projected outwards from herself, but the blackness automatically shielded me, deflecting the hot air around and away from me. I noticed though that steam rose from the surrounding grass before it browned and finally turned to smouldering ashes. She grew increasingly frustrated and channelled everything she had into the plume. Finally, the heat grew so intense that nearby rocks were cracking and splitting, sending out splinters of chalky limestone. Still, her efforts had little effect, after all, it was only air. Though I realised, had I no ability to defend myself, this attack would have been almost instantly fatal. That she had launched a potentially lethal assault upon me was not something I would let go unpunished.

If she could dish it out, then she could take it.

More dark flames rose at my feet and whirled around me like a miniature tornado. As they climbed to shoulder height, they whooshed away from me to meet her. They completely engulfed her and although she was impervious to their heat, the pressure they exerted was irresistible. Her arms were pressed to her sides, and she could not separate her legs to the effect that she lost her balance and toppled. As she lay on the ground, her body cracked and splintered, just like the rocks around her. She couldn't writhe or yell out in pain as this transpired, but the agony was clearly visible in her eyes. Liam heard the commotion and was by my side in a split second. He did not stop to ask questions and attempted immediately to stop me. However, he underestimated my rage. A new flame materialised at my side and struck him in the chest, hurtling him clear of the field and into Fiona's front garden. Then, I heard the resounding crack I'd been waiting for. A high-pitched noise struggled out from between Sorcha's gritted teeth as her arms detached from her shoulders. It was at this point I extinguished the flames. Sorcha screeched and cried, her body arching upwards. I kneeled beside her and said, "Quit your whining. Your arms will reattach. Consider this, though, your first lesson in humility."

"You fuckin' cunt…"

"Quiet. I think it's about time we cleared the air, don't you think?" At this point, Liam was again trying to get to me, but I had erected an iron dome of blackness around Sorcha and me. I continued, "Let me make one thing clear. I don't regret saving you, or you becoming a vampire. There was nothing wrong about what I did. I don't particularly care, though, if you think otherwise. I felt some regret to begin with, but now I see all your bellyaching is just to get the sympathy vote. The reality is you don't care, about anything or anyone but yourself. You don't really care that you crave human blood, you don't care that you can't lead a normal human existence, and you don't care about your family, that they're dead. As always, you're exploiting your situation as much as you can. I'm guessing that's how you ended up in that alleyway, you thought you'd get those rich boys to buy you all your drink for the night. Look where that got you."

"I swear I'll…"

"You'll what? Haven't I made it clear that you're no match for me? Anyhow, as I was saying, you are responsible for your own situation, so deal with it. I don't think you would've wanted to die in that alley, and I can see by the fact that you're not dying now that you want to live, these injuries would be fatal unless you will yourself to heal." Sure enough her arms were creeping back towards their sockets. I stood above her as she slowly reassembled herself. I said coldly, "I'd appreciate it, by the way, if you'd also stop alluding to how easy this is for me compared to you. Yes, I manage my hunger more easily, but that pain is nothing, _nothing_, compared to the thoughts of my dead family, the thought of my sister's suffering. If our positions were reversed, things like that wouldn't matter to you, and you'd be having it way easier than I am right now because you don't care about your family or appreciate them in anyway. Their deaths mean nothing to you, in fact, I bet you're even a little relieved to be rid of them." I expected her to at least act like what I was saying wasn't true, but her expression was not one of denial, but of acknowledgement. I said, "Hmm, thought so. You are truly a despicable person, Sorcha, and I don't really care what you do with yourself after this battle, just, in your words, don't speak to me as long as we're in each other's presence."

With that, I released the dome and Liam stood in front of me saying, "This is not the time for this. Your mutual issues could've waited till after this battle."

I eyed him with icily saying, "I'm done here, Liam. However, if Sorcha wishes to continue then I imagine she'll be a much more co-operative student. After all, she won't be throwing any punches for a while."

As Sorcha was recovering, and Liam continued to eye me with great hostility (which I suspected was more for my attack upon him than what I did to Sorcha), the others arrived back with the needed supplies. Even despite the anxiety that everybody was already feeling, the extra tension from the conflict between Sorcha and I was more than obvious. Sorcha stared into space with furious eyes while not meeting anyone's gaze and absently rubbing her shoulders as though to make sure her arms were still attached to them. Liam eyes now drifted to Siobhan and without words, they both stepped outside. They spoke fast as not to be heard, but I could tell Liam was highly offended by my attack and was trying to convince Siobhan that perhaps they should take their leave after all. Siobhan spoke more audibly, clearly not in agreement with him. I distinctly heard her say the words "not thinking straight" and "calm down". Maggie, Dermot, and Isolde looked down at their feet, all of them seemingly hoping that everything was not about to unravel. Fiona refused to look at me but at the same time, she glared at Sorcha with odium. For once, despite her anger, Sorcha's typical arrogant nonchalance was overshadowed by anxiousness, but I could not say whether my attack had thought her some humility or not. A few seconds later and Siobhan re-entered with Liam in tow. She favoured me with a look of disappointment, which was unexpected and harder to take than if she had looked at me hatefully. A deadening silence stretched out thereafter, giving the feeling of being suspended in an airless, noiseless vacuum. The others floated there with me, within sight, within reach but out of contact. It was almost claustrophobic, and I thought I should apologise for my behaviour but before I could utter a word, Fiona said, "Are we ready?"

No one said anything at first, but Dermot uttered after a minute, "Everything's set. We think Carina's going to move the newborns into Athlone town by midday tomorrow, you know, so she can make a big enough scene, so Isolde and I have devised a lure."

Isolde said, "We're going to draw them north towards a sparsely populated region, east of Lough Allen. It's a meadow near the mountains. It's bordered by hills and forestry, so there will be plenty of cover from the humans. Everything we need is on site as we speak."

Maggie asked, "How do you intend to draw them there?"

"We plan to leave a breadcrumb trail that they won't be able to resist."

Before Maggie could ask anymore, Fiona said, "Very well, you two will lead them to the meadow. We will have everything set up by the time you arrive."

"Okay, wish us luck."

With that, Dermot and Isolde darted out the front door. I heard the crackling of plastic outside for a few moments before they zoomed east, probably intending to go around the Shannon Estuary rather than across it. Fiona glanced around to everyone but gave me the most fleeting of looks and dwelled upon Sorcha a few moments longer. She then said flatly, "Let us be going then."

We all rushed out of the cottage, following Fiona's lead, heading due north, so we would be crossing the estuary. The cottage shrank behind us as the smell of brine grew more intense as we travelled. I knew that this could be it, that I could be running off to my death. I was no longer at ease with that thought, for I no longer wished for an end to this existence. I needed to be there for my sister, to rescue her, and make her safe again. However, if dying would accomplish that, so be it. If I were running into the arms of Death himself, then I would do so gladly in exchange for Chloe's wellbeing.

As we raced through Clare and then Galway, the morning grew brighter but from behind an ominous cloak of grey clouds. Leitrim laid ahead, the meadow, the battle. I wondered would I ever be leaving it.


	10. Chapter 10 The Meadow

**THE MEADOW:**

Noon approached as the sun climbed higher behind murky, grey clouds. I had lagged behind a bit, and even Sorcha arrived at the meadow several minutes before me. As I climbed the slope of a hill covered in high grass and thorny furze bushes, I felt an eerie sense of déjà vu. I tried to shake it as I reached the summit. I found the others there busy downing as much blood as they could in preparation for the battle. Already, their eyes were ruby red and almost glowed. Without a word, I took my share of the blood bags and drained as many as possible in the time we had left. I wasn't paying attention to much else besides feeding. I thought I heard Fiona say something about Dermot's plan working and that they were on their way. She also said that Carina was losing her grip on the newborns. Then, a split-second glance revealed a sight that was both familiar and foreboding. I stood and walked past the others, until I looked down upon our chosen battleground. The slope of the hill on this side was gentler, and there were no furze bushes. Instead, the hill was covered in chest-high grass and the dead stalks of plants that must once have been wildflowers the previous summer. The hill levelled out into a wide meadow covered in similar flora, but rushes peeked out from the grass where the earth was more sodden. Just beyond the meadow lay a misty wood of pine. The trees were gnarled and strangled-looking, as they played host to ivy and briars. This was the place of my dreams, the place imagined by my subconscious, the place where I would meet Fionn. This was also the place where I died over and over again.

I wondered would this time be any different.

As I stared dumbly, Siobhan and Liam rushed onto the meadow. My eyes were drawn to their activities. It was then that I noticed the four piles of blood bags spaced evenly across the meadow. They both inspected a cord that lay between the piles and the hill, finishing just behind me right in front of where Sorcha sat. Sorcha was cross-legged I noticed and had her eyes closed in concentration.

Then, I heard them, footfalls a few miles out.

Moments later, Dermot and Isolde emerged from the pine forest. Isolde held a blood bag in her hand, which she swung at the trunk of a pine tree. It became impaled upon a dead branch and spewed blood down to the tree's roots where it soaked into the leaf litter. They ascended the hill in a fraction of a second, and Dermot said, "They were right behind us, a few minutes out."

I asked, "And Carina? Chloe?"

"We were trying to stay ahead. I couldn't tell if either of them were still with the newborns."

Fiona said, "You did a good job getting them here, Dermot."

"Ah sure, it was simple. The minute they smelled blood, they followed our trail like blind mice after the scent of cheese."

Fiona asked Siobhan, "Are the explosives good to go?"

"Yeah, the cords are a little damp, but Sorcha can generate enough heat to deal with that."

I asked, "Are explosives really gonna do any good against vampires?"

Liam, to my surprise, replied, "As strong as we are, vampires still cannot defy the laws of physics. Strike us with enough kinetic energy, and we can be damaged. However, I imagine that most of the vampires in proximity to the blasts will be merely stunned and disorientated for a few moments…but that's all we need."

He seemed to have let go of his resentment towards me, and Siobhan and Fiona seemed to have softened a little, too. We all smiled weakly to each other, conveying gratitude, friendship, and goodbyes for just in case. Sorcha however remained focused on her heat field and ignored our wordless exchange.

Then, I heard what sounded like a stampede rushing towards us. I heard twigs and branches snap, and animals scurry into burrows or whatever cover they could find, squealing and squeaking in terror. A flock of birds swooped upwards from the forest canopy, cawing loudly in fear. Then, I saw them, my eyes piercing the mist to reveal our foes. Their limbs stretched into massive strides as they bounded towards the meal that awaited them. What struck me most was their eyes, those ruby orbs of overfed youth wide with a predatory hunger. They piled into the meadow, shoving and throwing each other aside to get to the blood first. Then, the infighting began. As they crowded over the blood, ripping the bags and spattering it everywhere, they began to wrestle each other down into submissions. Already there were kills. Two vampires were decapitated by their fellows, and a young male was torn apart by four others for a blood bag that he clutched in a death grip till his last moments. None of them had yet noticed the eight vampires observing their feeding frenzy from the top of the hill. I saw the blood pile nearest me was becoming depleted, and only a few vampires still tried to feed upon the last few dribbles of blood left in the bags. One of them was a girl, one of the immortal children. She could have been no more than six when she was human. Her hair was so blonde that it was almost white, but it was now streaked with blood and dirt, as were her clothes. As she impatiently batted the empty bags aside, she came upon a strange sight in the dead, damp grass; twelve sticks that looked like red candles with cords running out of them and up the hill. She followed the trail with her eyes until she met my gaze and suddenly, her expression was one of terror. Fiona uttered, "Now!"

Sorcha opened her eyes, and serpentine flows of hot air enveloped the cords, shooting along them to the meadow below, glowing white-hot. Before the girl could make a sound or even move, the heated air reached the blasting caps and BOOM!

What happened next was a stupendous, earth-shaking explosion that turned the peaceful meadow into a cloud of pulverised soil and rock. Although some of the dynamite was above ground, the majority of it was buried in holes filled with dead vegetation. As the ground erupted upwards, I saw dozens of vampires hurled skywards and crashing back to earth. Many were badly maimed with missing appendages. Others were totally disabled, having been ripped asunder by the force of the blast. Vampires who weren't close to the blast sites themselves were bowled over by the compression waves that rippled outwards through the air like crashing tsunami waves travelling from the epicentre of an earthquake. All in all, two thousand kilos of dynamite had just gone off, leaving several conjoined craters that billowed smoke. As the dust settled, the full carnage unleashed by the blast was unveiled. Those vampires nearest the blast were either crippled or totally dismembered. I saw no trace of the blonde Immortal Child amongst the scattered remains that littered the meadow. Some of the pieces were attempting to reassemble themselves, but thwarted by the sheer volume of other body parts of various individuals crossing each other's path. Beyond the craters, I could still see the "walking-wounded" stumbling about in confusion. A quick headcount revealed only eighteen of the sixty newborns had been taken out by the infighting and the dynamite. Sorcha rose to her feet as we all looked each other, silently agreeing that the time was now. The remaining newborns would only be disorientated for so long, and the smell of blood had almost vanished from the air.

In a synchronous move, we all charged down the slope.

We covered the breadth of the slope in a fraction of a second with Sorcha and I, imbued as we were with newborn speed, the first into the fray. From there on out, I was only vaguely aware of what the others were doing. As I reached my first target, a disorientated newborn who must once have been a middle-aged man who worked the land, I roared instinctually. My fist connected with his chin, ripping his head clean from his neck, as I kept running. Two other newborns regained some composure when they saw me coming, but it was too little, too late. I slide-tackled the first, a young woman, throwing her far overhead. I heard a crack from behind and saw Dermot running past me, realising he must have finished her. The second vampire was probably a boy in his late teens. He attempted to pounce on me as I lay on the ground before him, but I quickly rose to my feet, pirouetted, and brought my elbow to bear on his face, crushing his nose and fracturing his cheekbones and eye sockets. I stopped only momentarily to wrench his head from his body before I darted off.

The next twenty seconds passed in a blur of lightning strikes against individuals who I no longer looked at too closely , it made the task at hand a good deal easier. I wasn't really thinking about my actions either, I just acted out of pure instinct, following the hit-and-run tactics Liam had thought me. Of the newborns who crossed my path in that time, I might have killed one, maybe two, the rest I struck an injurious blow or cast them into path of one of my fellows who then dispatched them.

Then, a force like a flying ten-tonne rock striking my midsection bowled me over. The force of the impact had been strong enough to drive the air from my rigid lungs, but being winded didn't particularly bother me beyond the loss of my sense of smell. I realised I was flat on my back with a significant weight pressing down upon me. As I tried to focus on my attacker, I saw a small body haloed by sunlight from a break in the cloud cover. His face was cherubic in appearance with puffy cheeks and a small mouth and nose. His dirty blonde hair, which was a little too long, fell in wavy strands that covered the majority of his forehead and his ears. He might have been the ideal child, angelic in looks, if it were not for the bulging red eyes that focused upon me with an enraged expression that did not belong on the face of one so young. I tried to struggle against him, but somehow, the small boy had me pinned, and I began to realise how strong the Immortal Children could be, how dangerously uncontrollable. _No wonder they were outlawed_. His small hands pressed down upon my throat. I heard the familiar splitting sound of cracking, stony flesh. He was trying to sever my head, and he was succeeding. The slow, arduous decapitation was making it difficult to control the rest of my body and so, my resistance waned. I sensed the approach of other vampires. I thought that this was it. If they piled upon me, I would be ripped limb from limb and smashed to pieces. Even if my body could reassemble, the others, if they even won the battle, would be forced to burn all the remains before the Volutri arrived. As the boy's hands sunk deeper into my flesh, and the others approached, I closed my eyes and began to accept my total failure. Fear gripped me, for Chloe's safety, and so, the blackness was drowned out by a flight response that I couldn't react to. Then, in a second, the pressure lifted. I could feel my airways reopening. I swivelled and saw Fiona swinging the child off my body and into a high arc away from us. Liam then appeared from nowhere and leapt to intercept him.

I did not watch the destruction of Chloe's first victim.

I stood as Fiona darted off toward a screeching, female newborn who appeared to be another teenager, and was trying to reach me as the boy had. My instincts told me to follow the tactics that Liam had thought me. I should be running, landing blows on the move, not standing dead still, staring into space. My eyes moved side-to-side, even if my body didn't so much as twitch. I scanned the scene and saw our plan was failing. With the exception of Liam, the others were doing more running than fighting. There were still several dozen newborns, who were slowly gaining in organisation, probably because the diminished numbers were easier for Carina and Chloe to control. I saw Maggie struggle to avoid a much larger, male vampire who had a mad, almost amused look upon his face. Siobhan and Dermot were running in circles, trying desperately to outmanoeuvre the pursuing newborns. Fiona was struggling with two of the younger vampires, the girl from before and a boy who must have only been eight when he was changed. Liam battled on, but he was struggling as the number of enemies he was contending with continued to grow. Sorcha was at the base of the hill. She was trying to repel six vampires, but I saw terror in her expression. She was afraid, and her ability was diminishing, her weakness was the same as mine. The vampires eventually crowded her to the ground, and all she could do to stop them tearing her to bits was struggle to maintain a skin-tight field of heat that made her burning-hot to the touch. As the others faced imminent defeat, I wondered why I was not being overcome as they were.

Then, I perceived the bubble, a dome of black fire surrounding me.

Newborns approached, but they were burnt and repelled in an instant. I felt my anger rising within me, that I'd thought of giving up, that I'd accepted failure. The black flames seemed to pour from my mind and touch the ground. As the foliage around me dried and ignited, I sensed real flames surround me. However, the blackness seemed to mirror them, every contortion and ripple of fire matched by my flames of obsidian. It appeared I was in control of them as much as the blackness from whence they originated. It was then that the plight of the others returned to my conscious mind. The first I noticed was, once again, Maggie. She had lost the game of cat and mouse with the massive, male vampire who now had her pressed to ground, seemingly taking his time hurting her before he made his kill. Suddenly, the dome I'd thrown up collapsed, breaking into a dozen fragments that reformed into almost avian-like spectres, two of which impacted upon Maggie's attacker, casting him off of her and incinerating him in the blink of an eye. One by one, they swooped down upon the newborns, engulfing them in flames. The spectres looked sinister to me, almost evil, like ravens made of burning coals from hell itself, and they seemed to have minds of their own, my thoughts only seeming to slightly influence their behaviour. It was clear that the newborns themselves could see the spectres, as could my comrades, probably as birds of fire coming right at them. In a desperate bid to stop me, a large fraction of the remaining newborns tried to rush me but from there, the blackness exploded. The spectres returned to my mind as though they were returning to their roost. I saw three newborns were coming at me from my left, so I morphed the blackness into a burning carpet that slid under their feet and then erupted upwards, consuming them as their anguished screams peaked and rapidly faded. Five more charged at me head on. I brought the blackness to bear almost like a flaming sword and swiped across their upper bodies. They crumbled and ignited before they could even issue a whimper. One last newborn approached me from the right, but this one seemingly was slowing down, reconsidering. I did not give him that chance and sent the blackness thundering towards him like a speeding freight train. In a second, he disappeared into dust. I looked around, and the tide had definitely turned in our favour. I noticed, though, that Sorcha was still pinned down by her attackers. With a little reluctance, I started towards her to lend a hand.

It was in that moment that I sensed a familiar presence, smelled a familiar scent. Chloe stood but fifty feet away.

She stared at me vacantly, like a puppet hanging limp, yet to be manipulated by its master. I stepped towards her as four more newborns approached me just to the left and right of my field of vision. I brought my arms into a cross as I ran, and formed the blackness into a bladed edge along my forearms. With them just feet away, I stretched my arms out straight, casting the blades to the ground where they grew in height and propagated out like a tidal wave. The newborns were swallowed by it and incinerated, as chunks of soil and grass were ripped up from the ground ahead.

Chloe had tried to turn and run, but I was too fast for her. I dived, catching her legs and knocking her flat on her face. Still with that blank expression, she kicked me full-force in the head, almost causing it to snap back off my neck. I recovered quickly and stood, but she was on her feet also. Robotically, she swiped at me with her small, clenched fists and kicked at my shins. If she were human, such attacks would be wholly ineffective, but as she'd already proven, even she could land a fatal blow now. I did my best to block and dodge her strikes, but my panic was growing. _Where is Fiona? I need her now! _I knew Chloe was amplifying my anxiety and despair, but awareness of the fact did nothing to dull the effects of her ability. She drew her fist back in preparation for a strike, but I sidestepped from in front of her. She fell flat, having thrown all her weight behind it. I immediately caught her by the arms, pulling them tight behind her back. She struggled furiously as I brought her to her feet. I tried to calm her, saying, "Chloe, it's okay, just calm down. Everything's going to be alright." She struggled harder and despite my newborn strength, I wasn't going to be able to restrain her for long. Almost pleading, I said, "Please, Chloe, it's me. Your big brother, it's Jason. Please hold on. It's all gonna be…"

The mind fires fizzled. I felt a growing numbness in my body, the sensation of bitter, icy cold just crawling within me. A sensation completely unfamiliar to me because of the blackness, it was totally paralysing. I felt my grip on Chloe loosen instantly as I fell to my knees. She stood before me, as blank as ever, her face tilted downwards only slightly to meet my petrified gaze. The sensations of her emotional assault had such physical manifestations that it was difficult to tell what emotions I was feeling exactly. Fear most certainly and hopelessness. Then, a voice trickled into my conscious mind, feeling like ice water filling my head. It was definitely female, and she spoke in a harsh whisper, "_Checkmate, Jason. It's over. We won. Now you are going to be a good boy and kneel there and watch, not even flinching as I have your baby sister slowly kill you. How does that feel, Jason? She's going to watch herself murder you with her own hands, helpless to stop herself, and before I destroy her, she shall wallow in misery and guilt over what she has done. Bye-bye, Jason. Enjoy_."

_Carina!_

I screamed out her name in apoplectic odium in my head. My teeth gritted loudly, and my body trembled with rage. The blackness exploded like an erupting volcano in my mind, but Chloe's ability made it feel as though that volcano was buried under glaciers. My head still felt cold and numb, but inside the blackness coiled and spun like a fiery cobra just itching to burst out of its fragile, woven basket. Chloe finally showed some sign that she was alive and still in there somewhere. Her hands were outstretched, ready to grasp my head, but she shook almost convulsively, her lips pressed tight, and she squinted and blinked repeatedly. Through my near-lockjaw, I managed to utter, "Chloe, fight it! Fight _her_!"

And fighting she was, but it wasn't enough. Her hands were already pressing against my head just behind the hinges of my jaw. I felt the pressure slowly increase, pain like slashing knives pulsing at the base of my skull. Chloe's body was starting to jerk as she fought harder, but I feared that action in itself might result in her decapitating me. In spite of her efforts, as the pain seared through me, I knew she would not prevail, so I said my final parting words, "I love you, Chloebear. This…ain't your fault."

I closed my eyes. I didn't want the last thing I saw to be my sister's anguished eyes staring down upon my broken body, having been forced to kill me.

Suddenly, air rushed into my lungs as I inhaled, the pressure upon my head disappearing along with the pain. I reluctantly opened my eyes to see Fiona cupping both of Chloe's cheeks in her hands while Chloe had both of her hands placed on top of hers. They both had wide-eyed expressions, locked in each other's gaze. Fiona's eyes began to move side-to-side like in REM sleep, as though she was searching for something. As I watched, Chloe's eyes welled up with venom that could never fall as tears. Fiona's expression become remorseful as, without warning, she let go.

Chloe gasped and fell limply to the ground.

I was at her side in a millisecond, holding her hand and brushing her hair from her face. I feared for a moment that after all she'd suffered, the violation of Carina's mind control, the killing, and the siring of others, she might really fall into a catatonic state this time. After a few tortuous seconds, though, she took a raspy breath and cried pitifully. I leaned over her and pressed her face into my shoulder. She pulled herself up and wrapped her arms around me tight. She shook with each wail. She refused to let me see her face, burying it further into curve of my neck. Fiona looked as though she was barely holding it together, though I could only see her because she was in my field of view, I would not even lift my head an inch. Fiona said, "I'm sorry, Jason. Carina had so many strings latched onto her that I had to untie. I had to show her every truth to break Carina's hold over her."

"It had to be done. Don't be sorry."

Chloe finally spoke through her tears in a ragged, breathy voice. "I'm sorry, Jason. I'm sorry…so, so sorry. I couldn't stop myself."

"Ssshhh, it's okay, it's okay. I know. It's not your fault. I don't blame you."

"I hurt so many people."

This time, I made her look at me. I said, "Chloe, look at me. Listen. What you did, none of it was you. It was all her, Carina. She manipulated you. No one can blame you for any of this."

Then, she said something that broke my heart to hear, "But I can still see all their faces. I still remember how they felt. I can't make it all go away."

We were both sitting up now, and she fell against me crying, balling up her fists as her little body heaved from the force of her cries. I couldn't bear to see her like this. I wanted to make it all go away for her, I wanted to make everything okay, but I was helpless. I might have saved her, removed the leech that had a stranglehold on her, but she still bled despite its absence, and I knew not how to close her open wounds. I doubted I could ever help her heal fully.

I hadn't noticed the others gather around. They all looked beat up and worn down, which was an odd state of being for a vampire. Dermot knelt down beside Fiona, his expression sorrowful, full of sympathy. Sorcha, I noticed, had just escaped the newborns who'd ganged up on her and was torturing them with burning tendrils, whipping and slashing at them gleefully. She paid no heed to the mournful scene behind her.

Then, Chloe stiffened in my arms. She let out a panicked wail and in a likewise tone, said, "Jason, she's back. She's trying to get back inside my head."

I passed her over to Fiona who held her close. I asked angrily, "What's happening? What's she doing?"

"She's trying to regain control with more of her delusions. I'm making her immune to them for now, but you have to stop her. I can't keep hold of Chloe forever."

I looked to Dermot, and he nodded to me. The others, with the exception of Sorcha, who was otherwise engaged, did the same. I stood, releasing Chloe's hands. She said, "Wait, Jason. Don't leave. What if she comes for me?"

"It's okay. Fiona will protect you. I'm going to stop her. Believe me, I will."

"…Okay, please come back to me, though."

"I promise. I'm gonna make her go away."

We all fanned out, moving in different directions. She had to be near to influence Chloe, and one of us had to come across her. I charged into the misty forest, skipping over the fragmented remains of the vanquished newborns and bursting through the undergrowth. My eyes easily pierced the veil of fog, everything was clear as day to me. It wasn't long before I picked up her scent. I heard her footfalls, too, as she trampled through the dead forest vegetation. She was moving fast, but I was still faster. However, I wasn't gaining much ground on her, for she had too much of a lead. Then, I heard more footfalls, and familiar odours reached me through the thicket. Maggie and Isolde had heard her, too, and they were cutting her off. She had no choice but to double-back straight towards me. She was zigzagging now, trying to evade me, but as the distance between us closed, she could do little to shake me. I burst into a path in woods that was not well-trodden, emerging right in front of her. She charged past me, hurling me aside. I was back on my feet in seconds, chasing her up the path. I could feel her mind games at work, as she tried to make me believe I was in excruciating pain. It was distracting but not overwhelming. I sensed Maggie and Isolde fall back, as they seemed to have more trouble resisting it. I was nearly within reach now, I extended an arm to grab her but then, my legs gave way from under me.

I could hear them, their screams, their pleas for mercy. Carina had gotten to Chloe again. She'd made her kill Fiona, Siobhan, Liam, and Sorcha. The blackness had extended out into a mile-wide dome, and I could sense every moment of it. She had Dermot now, and she was torturing him horribly. He was screaming, writhing in agony, he was…standing right behind Carina. The spell was broken. Carina had chosen to trick me by using my own ability against me, knowing that I would trust it above all my other senses, that, she had figured out, it was the reason it was so difficult to manipulate me. Before Carina could even begin to turn, only realising the threat at her back just then, Dermot pulled her back by her hair, bore his teeth, and with a lightning snap of his jaws, ripped her head clean off. Her body fell in a heap on the ground. Dermot dropped her head unceremoniously upon her lap and whipped out a lighter. With the lighter ignited, he dropped it upon her, and she exploded into flame.

Carina was no more. It was almost impossible to believe, but before I could begin to process, I heard Fiona calling us back. She sounded frantic, and she shouted loudly, though we would probably have heard her if she whispered. Dermot and I were the last to reach her. She still held Chloe, but my sister jumped to her feet on seeing me and wrapped her arms around my waist. Dermot knelt down beside his aunt who trembled with fear. His hand on her upper back, he asked, "Fiona, Fiona, auntie, what's the matter?"

"We're too late. They're coming."


	11. Chapter 11 Enforcers

**11. ENFORCERS:**

Fiona struggled to control her breathing but only so she speak clearly. Dermot kept asking her, "How do you know? Auntie, how do you know?"

She replied, "When Carina tried to use Jason's ability against him, it took much of her concentration. She had to let down her defences for just a moment before you killed her but in that moment, I saw everything she was plotting. She called the Volturi herself. She hoped they would come here and see what she'd done, thinking we were responsible. She put the call in two days ago, she was planning to unleash the newborns in Athlone and then lead the Volturi straight to them once they arrived. However, when we lured them away, she changed her plan accordingly. She called Aro, told him exactly where the newborns and their _creators_ would be. They're on their way here now as we speak. I'd say we have fewer than thirty minutes."

Everyone looked resigned, except for Chloe who was frantic, gripping my jacket tightly. The skies had darkened since the battle had ended, and I sensed the increased moisture in the air just as the first drops splattered upon my skin. Luckily, the newborns had all largely burnt to a crisp, and Sorcha seemed to be enjoying her clean-up duties a bit too much, smirking as she ignited the remains that still crept along and twitched. Chloe still held on to me, but she gently yanked at my jacket. I looked down, and she said, "She's not telling you everything."

Her eyes still looked watery, but her expression had become accepting like the others. I was bemused by what she was saying, as was everyone else, except Fiona. She looked down at the ground determinedly and said, "It isn't important."

I said, "Fiona, whatever you tell us, it can't get much worse."

She seemed unwilling to speak the words, so she took Dermot's hand and transferred what she knew to him. His expression looked like one of concentration for a moment but as soon as Fiona let go, he looked numb, vacant, and almost as unwilling as Fiona to pass on her information. He avoided my gaze as he spoke, "Ah, Carina knew bringing the Volturi here would be dangerous for her also, even if she had reported the outbreak. She was thinking along the same lines as us; she needed something to bargain with. She was going to hand over you and your sister."

"What? How'd she plan to do that?"

"Well, when she concocted the plan to attack Athlone, she suspected we might try and intervene. However, she did not anticipate our intervention to be as sophisticated as the plan we used today. She had, prior to her change of plans, intended that her army destroy all of us, except for you two. That way, she could claim Ireland and hand you over, gaining favour with the Volturi. When we lured them up here, that element of her plan remained unchanged."

"I don't understand why she sought the Volturi's favour."

"That's the reason her and Sophia separated."

It took but moments to work out his meaning. "Carina thought their feud with the Volturi should end, that they might finally be able to stop running if they settle their dispute with…a gift."

"Indeed, she'd have them off her back and free reign over a whole country. She hoped that, in time, Sophia would forgive her and return."

"Okay, I understand all this. What I don't get is why this was something you couldn't tell me."

"She wanted you, Jason, just you and your sister. She intended to kill the rest of us because she didn't think we'd be of any value to the Volturi."

"Not even Fiona?"

"She never came to a full understanding of what Fiona can do. She thought she was a simple shield, able to protect herself and others from mental attack. Therefore, she never told the Volturi about her. All she told them was that the newborn's creators would be here. She gave no names."

I mulled over what he had told me in a few brief seconds. Fiona watched me out of the corner of her eye as my mind worked, and Dermot watched expectantly, waiting for me to say something. The others, I knew, had already figured out what this might mean for them. As the cogs lined up, and I formulated my plan of action, I saw Fiona's eyes widen in terror. She knew what I was about to say had to be done but at the same time, she desperately wished for another way. However, with all our talking, we'd already lost nearly ten minutes, this needed to be done immediately. I said with as much vehemence as I could muster, "All of you go, now."

Dermot, taken aback, asked, "Are you kidding?"

"No, I want you all to leave pronto. The rain is heavy enough to obliterate your scent trail. They'll never know any of you were here, and they won't be able to follow."

"Jason, we're not about to abandon you to the Volturi…"

"I won't be responsible for your deaths. We're the ones they want, they have no interest in any of you, so they will dispose of you."

Fiona said, her voice breaking, "Jason, you can't ask us to do that, we can't…" She looked to everyone, but only Dermot seemed to share her opinion. "Please, somebody else say something, we can't let them do this."

Before she got a response, I said, "Siobhan, you know you have to go. You're coven has already had a major run-in with the Volturi. Do you really believe they'll pass up this opportunity to punish you for helping the Cullens?" She, Liam, and Maggie looked flabbergasted, but I could see the acknowledgement in their eyes. I continued, "Dermot, Fiona, you feared putting your loved ones in harm's way fighting this battle when the risk of losing them was so great, how are you with staying, making that outcome a certainty?"

Fiona replied, "It makes no difference. If we stay, we will lose loved ones, and if we leave, the same will result."

"Fiona…"

She walked right up to me, standing before me, and said, "You can't ask this of us. Please, Dermot and I, we love you like family. That is how much you mean to us, and I can't stomach the idea of letting you face this alone." She took my hands and said, "Please…" Her eyes were pleading but not for me to change my mind. I could see it in her eyes, she knew herself that there was no other way. She just wanted me to give her another option, or at least tell her it would all be okay. I could give her neither.

I squeezed her hands and said, "Fiona, outside of Chloe, you and Dermot have been more family in the past weeks than I've had my whole life. No matter what's happened or will happen, I would never change any of it. Just having you in my life has been worth it all. I love you both, too, and I won't see any harm come to either of you if I can prevent it, so, please, go now."

Fiona embraced me, gripping me tight. She said, "It's gonna be all right. We'll see each other again soon." I said nothing in reply. I thought her words were more for herself than me. She let me go after a moment and returned to the others.

Dermot stood before me now. His posture was stiff, but his face gave away his emotional turmoil. He tried to speak evenly, but his voice broke in places as he said, "I better be seeing you again, man, you hear me?" I couldn't say anything, I only looked at him mournfully. He continued, "You know, even after our first meeting, I knew you'd be a part of our lives, that you were what was missing from our little family dynamic. After I was changed, I think I missed my brothers the most, that I couldn't have them in my life anymore. Then, you came along, and that feeling just fell away. I love you, man. Come back, okay?"

"Okay…" I was too choked up to say that with any conviction.

We embraced briefly, but it was beginning to feel too much like a goodbye, especially for Dermot's liking, I thought. As Dermot re-joined the others, I felt all of their eyes upon me. They all wanted to say something, it seemed, but there was no time left for individual goodbyes. They left one at a time with a brief wave, or in Liam's case, a nod. Siobhan was the last of her coven to leave. I expected her to make some gesture and go, but she allowed Dermot and Isolde to leave ahead of her, and stayed by Fiona's side. She took her hand as Fiona stared at me with aggrieved eyes. Then, her expression changed to one of confusion followed by what I could only interpret as a flicker of hope that disappeared from her expression almost as soon as it had appeared. She focused upon me once more, and images, voices, flashed in my mind in fragments which came together into a coherent message, a piece of information that had been buried deep for millennia, that could wreak havoc if it came to be known to the right people. I wasn't sure how I might use it, but against the power of the Volturi, I had nothing else. Not even my ability could save me.

With that, Fiona's expression returned to its previous grief-stricken state, and Siobhan guided her away with a hand upon her back. They disappeared behind the hill, and then about a mile out, their footfalls were drowned out by the pelting rain. Something occurred to me then, I had not seen Sorcha depart. She must have left before everyone else. So she had chosen to go her own way, I just hoped, for the sake of the others, that she didn't draw attention to herself.

Chloe still clung to my sodden jacket with enough force to tear the fabric. Her face was partially buried in my side as she muttered, "We're going to die, aren't we?"

I spoke truthfully, for there was little point in lying to her. "I don't know, Chloe. All I know is that these people are dangerous, they're not to be crossed. We're about to take the fall for the creation of the newborn army, so the Volturi won't look to the others. Best-case scenario is that they make us join them, which we will accept above the alternative. After that, I don't know. I'm going to have to figure out how we might escape them and if we do, we'll be on the run. We can't come back here, ever, for fear they might discover our connection to the others. You understand, right? I can't let any of them get hurt, even if it means never seeing them again."

She replied tearfully, "I know. You'll figure it out, big brother."

I then knelt before her, holding her hands, and said, "I will, Chloe-bear. I promise I will. Now, there is something I need you to do. If you can, use your ability on Aro if he asks to take your hand. He can read every thought you've ever had if he touches you. Do you think you can do that?"

"…I could induce confusion in him when he reads my thoughts. He might not remember everything he reads from me."

"That's good, now I've got my own way. We just have to get through their interrogation, and maybe they'll consider us worthy of joining their Guard…"

I heard distant footfalls through the rain, closing fast. There were seven, no, eight that I could hear, two of them were so close that one almost eclipsed the other. They were but a few miles out and would soon be within earshot of our conversation. I held Chloe to me in a tight hug, which she returned in kind. I said to her, "I love you little sis, very much."

"I love you, too."

I felt her influence upon me, trying desperately to ease my fear, but she found it impossible given her own state of terror, as if she was trying to wash away grime with mucky water. I gripped her hand tightly as we both faced the eerie forest from the middle of the meadow just in front of the craters. My brain was working to answer all their potential questions in advance. I needed a coherent story that made sense so as not to implicate the others in this. As they sped towards us, surely knowing we were there by then, I feared they would not stop to ask questions and simply kill us. They were inside the forest, darting smoothly amongst the trees, closing on us. I felt the urge to close my eyes, not wanting to see my own death happen. I remained strong for the sake of my sister, but I could not entirely banish the terrified expression upon my face. As I watched, the mist became darker in four places. Suddenly, the forms of other vampires materialised in the gloom. They drifted out to meet us, almost with a casual manner, as though this were just another day on the job. They all wore gloves and were all hooded, making it hard to discern anything about their appearance. They stood still as three more vampires emerged from the forest, with another I could see just behind the one in the middle.

I knew who they were. Caius, Marcus, and Aro, the leaders of the Volturi coven.

As soon as they came to a stop, the others dropped their hoods simultaneously. I saw Jane first. Her was light brown, almost blonde, and she wore a full-length, buttoned cloak. She was beautiful to behold, slight and short with a child-like character to her angelic face. Yet, an expression of such malicious intent upon it tainted her otherwise perfect visage. Her twin brother, Alec, stood at her side. He wore a long coat with a top inside it that had a high neck. He also wore some kind of chain. He looked very much like his sister if a bit taller with darker hair. His expression conveyed less desire to kill brutally, but his gaze still felt icy.

My eyes wandered from them and were immediately drawn to the hulking figure of a vampire to their left I assumed was Felix. He was broad and tall, making everyone else in the meadow seem diminutive. His hair was black and short, and his skin had a slightly olive tone underneath the vampiric chalkiness.

To the right of Jane and Alec stood another Guard member I thought might be Demetri. He, too, was quite tall but a lot leaner than Felix. He also had black hair and olive skin almost covered by his chalky pallor. Demetri, however, had longer, wavier hair. Felix had been intimidating in himself, he did not need to express his menace in any way, but Demetri's expression reminded me of Alec's iciness combined with a hint of Jane's deadly intent.

Of the leaders, my eyes were not drawn first to Aro but to Caius for the look of malevolence he fixed us with. His skin, like all the leaders, was strangely translucent, almost onion-like. His hair was so silvery-blonde that it almost matched the tone of his skin as it flowed smoothly from his head. His features were in stark contrast to the black cloak he wore, which gathered upon the ground and had great, drooping sleeves. Marcus was his complete opposite. Although he wore a similar cloak, he left it open, revealing plain, dark trousers and a strange, mauve top that had the appearance of a potato sack. He wore a chain carrying the crest of the Volturi, as did the other leaders. His hair was jet black and lank and whilst Caius was positively animated with malice and distaste, Marcus's focus drifted as he stared into space, gazing upon nothing or no one in particular. The only way I could describe his demeanour is to say that he looked plain bored. I wondered might he be so apathetic once I played my hand.

Finally, I came to Aro who stood tall between and slightly in front of his co-leaders. He wore what appeared to me like a typical, black business suit without a tie. His hair was black as night and sleek, falling so and gathering upon his shoulders. His expression was oddly cheerful and full of curiosity, though his eyes, though red, had a somewhat milky quality, which was unsettling. The way he was carrying himself seemed jarringly inappropriate, considering the situation. I hoped it meant he might show us some leniency, but I was prepared to wipe that smirk off his face should he force my hand. I noticed the woman last, for she stood almost directly behind Aro. I remembered from what Siobhan told me of the Volturi that Aro had a bodyguard who never left his side and who faithfully mirrored his every step. Her name was Renata, and all I knew was that even if I chose to attack Aro, it wouldn't matter, for she could stop me from carrying out my will. I thought I might soon find out how.

Aro made a grand gesture, spreading his arms out with his palms facing upwards. He said, "Young ones, I bid you greetings."

I did not know what to say, so I decided to feign ignorance and said, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Why, we are the Volturi, we uphold the laws of our kind and effect justice where necessary. It surprises me that your creator has not informed you as such."

"I doubt our creator intended our creation."

"Ah, I see. What a pity, such reckless abandon in bringing new vampires into the world is something we so frown upon. Might I ask who your creator is? A name would suffice."

"…His name was Julian, a former member of the Genoan coven."

Aro furrowed his eyebrows briefly in confusion and said, "But surely this cannot be true. After all, it was his mate, Carina, who alerted us to the presence of a substantial newborn outbreak."

"Julian fed upon me, he was prevented from finishing, and I was created."

"How was he so prevented from finishing? And what is it you mean when you say 'former member'?"

"I say former because Julian's dead, as is Carina, and Sophia's new mate, Danny, too. All were by my hand." Aro seemed surprised but pleasantly so, which was odd, but Caius displayed nothing but fearful shock. I continued, "As for how he was thwarted from killing me, I have certain abilities."

With these words, Aro's eyes lit up. Caius showed signs of cautious optimism as to the turnout of this encounter. Marcus remained disinterested, and the Guard members might as well have been statues. Aro stepped forward a few feet and clapped his hands together once, saying, "Oh what good fortune it is that we meet. To think you defeated one of the most powerful vampires I have ever known, and two other members of a most troublesome coven."

"We also disposed of the newborns for you." With this, the Guard members became more animated, exchanging surprised looks and fidgeting considerably. Clearly, they were all aware of the scale of the outbreak, and Caius, in particular, seemed most pleased to be meeting us, a greedy smile crossing his face. Marcus was the only whose mood remained unchanged. Aro grinned as he asked, "We?"

"My sister is also gifted. Together we destroyed the newborns."

"May I have your names, young ones?"

"I am Jason, and this is Chloe, my younger sister."

"Yes." I noticed he eyed her regretfully as he said, "A great deal younger." He paused briefly before his cheeriness returned. He said, "I, too, am gifted, young ones. Granted, my ability is likely more subtle than either of yours but nevertheless, it has its advantages. I would very much like to get to know you both better, may I take your hand, Chloe?"

She stiffened against me, clutching at my jacket, and eyeing Aro with a panicked expression. I wanted to protect her from this, but we had to play our part in order to conceal the other's involvement. I squeezed her far shoulder and urged her forward, trying to convey in my expression for her not to be afraid. It was useless to ask that of her, but she stepped forward hesitantly nevertheless. Aro, too, started to stride forward with Renata at his back. I saw that she placed one hand squarely between Aro's shoulder blades at all times, and looked at the back of his head imploringly, as though silently begging him to proceed no further. As they approached each other, I followed up behind Chloe, maintaining but a three-foot gap between us. Almost immediately, Aro extended a hand to her with an encouraging smile, though, upon his face, such a grin looked demented. Chloe took considerable time to return the gesture, but Aro's cheery expression did not wane. They held hands for but a few moments before Aro gently released his grip and said, "Ah, it is interesting, and familiar."

Caius came to his side with vampiric haste and said, "What do you mean, Aro?"

"Her memories are fragmented, out of step with one another, especially those of recent days and weeks. The discord in her mind is akin to those touched by Carina's mind meddling that I have encountered. I saw much of her human memories, but those of her vampire life are entirely distorted. It is difficult to glean anything but the quickest flashes of blurred images from her." I breathed a silent sigh of relief in my mind. Chloe knew Carina's tricks inside and out, and she knew exactly how to befuddle Aro into believing he had read nothing of her memories and thoughts. His eyes switched to me as I came to Chloe's side. Caius seemed prepared to defend himself if necessary as Renata peeked from behind Aro with fearful eyes. Aro asked, smiley as ever, "Jason, your hand?"

I extended my hand towards his. However, in the brief moments before contact, I smothered my arm and hand in a thin film of blackness. It was so insubstantial that even a vampire would not feel its presence, at least I hoped he wouldn't. As his hand clasped around mine, I could feel the sensation softened but a fraction by the blackness. It was comparable to shaking someone's hand whilst wearing gloves of finest silk. Aro lost his smile almost the second we touched and let go of my hand. I thought that I had seriously underestimated him, that he had seen through my ruse, but I once again had cause for relief when he said, "Hmm, I sense nothing from this one."

I decided to be bold, saying, "I did not expect you would."

Caius growled lowly as Aro cocked an eyebrow. He said, "What makes you say that?"

"Carina's ability was largely ineffective against me, also."

The Guard members shuffled, becoming restless at these words. Perhaps, I was an unpleasant reminder of their past encounters with the Olympic coven. Jane, I saw, looked very unhappy, curling her lip as she glared at me. Alec reached out to her as if to stay her hand. I couldn't help but meet her gaze with apprehension. The blackness might have been an effective trick in the face of Aro's mind-scouring ability, but I doubted it would help against the Witch Twins, unless I got in my punches first. With one word from Caius, the Guard members were as animate as statues once more, though Jane retained a tight-lipped expression. While I had been distracted, Aro and Caius had pulled back to their group with a relieved Renata in tow. Aro faced me once more and with a grim expression he asked, "Do you take responsibility for the creation of these newborns?"

"I admit we initiated this, yes. We created a few "friends" who in turn created more until our group grew beyond the limits of our control."

"Your initial creations were quite young I understand."

"They were."

"The creation of Immortal Children is strictly forbidden under vampire law. It is a most grievous offence."

"We were never told there even were laws. We couldn't have known that."

Caius replied, "Ignorance of the law cannot protect you from it."

Aro added, "As such, it falls upon us as guardians of the law to ensure justice is carried out. Regrettably, that means your destruction. We must ensure that no other vampires commit actions that might unveil our secret."

Chloe whimpered as I replied, "But we destroyed them, all of them. We fixed everything."

Caius replied with a sneer, "Your most recent acts, though admittedly impressive if foolhardy, do not absolve you of your crime. You created the problem in the first place."

Aro added as though he was tasting something vile, "The punishment is death by hand of my Guard." Chloe yelped as the Witch Twins, Demetri and Felix stepped forward. Aro said with a disturbingly calming tone, "Do not worry yourselves, young ones. I shall have Alec anaesthetise you. Your plight shall soon be at an end."

"Not if I've anything to do with it."

Oddly, he smiled, as though he anticipated my response. Perhaps this was some kind of test. If it was, I intended to ace it. I knew I had act fast to disable the Witch Twins or they would render me unable to fight. Although terror gripped me, I sensed that Chloe was calming me enough to use my ability, but just barely. I managed to summon the strange, flaming raptors once more. They took form between my hands and flew in the faces of Alec and Jane. Before they could react, they were struck down but not with as much force as I'd hoped. They were still alive, desperately clawing at their faces before rubbing them in the wet grass. Felix and Demetri looked as though they were about to make a move. I put my hands out in front of me as if I were pressing them flat against a pane of glass. They were running at us now and with but feet to spare, they crumpled before us like speeding cars striking a solid wall. I formed a bubble of solid blackness to block them and as they returned to their feet, I drew it down in front of me in layers like a deck of cards being folded together. It was then that I cast it out against them, striking with the force of an oncoming freight train. They flew through the air, their bodies twisting and their limbs flailing before colliding into a pine tree, bringing it down with the force of impact. I saw Aro clapping his hands and laughing heartily as though he were a child who had received an early Christmas present. The tree came to rest between the Volturi and us. It wasn't much of an obstacle, but I thought it might buy us the second we needed to make a run for it. I grabbed Chloe by the elbow roughly and sent her ahead of me. We ran as fast as our legs would carry us, and we almost made it to the foot of the hill, until I heard Aro's laughter cease.

Then, I collapsed to the ground, bathed in an agony so intense that it felt as though a thousand knives were stabbing me.

I roared until I vacated all the air from my lungs, but it was impossible to inhale as my body seized. My body went totally rigid except for the most minute of trembles and twitches, but that was in no way a reflection of the excruciating pain I was suffering. The pain was intense, complex, inescapable, unending, never softening even a bit. It was as if every cell in my body was screaming at me in absolute and utter agony, whilst simultaneously it felt as though each one of them was being ripped asunder over and over again. For a few seconds, nothing but the pain existed, it was if my soul were trapped in a world made up of nothing else. Then, I heard small footfalls rushing by my head, then a spine-chilling wail, and I was free of the deathly grip of whatever had me. I soon saw the source. Jane lay on her side, stretched out on the sodden ground, trapped in an inconsolable, despondent state, though it didn't stop Alec from trying to soothe her. I looked behind me, and there stood Chloe, her focus upon Jane one of vicious intent. The misery soon spread like a contagion. Alec was barely keeping it together whilst Demetri and Felix trembled uncontrollably with vacant expressions upon their faces. Marcus, too, would be in tears if he could physically cry. Caius stubbornly refused to show any emotion, but his face was tauter than a stretched-out elastic band. Aro was the only one who seemed unmoved by Chloe's wave of dejection, though he looked deeply unhappy with the turn of events. As I tried to get m bod to respond to my will, I said to Chloe, "What're you doing? Get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you behind with them."

"Please, Chloe, go…"

There was nothing. No sights, no sounds, no smells. There was nothing but my own thoughts echoing pitifully in a black void. I did not understand what had happened. One moment, I was looking up at Chloe from the ground, in the next there was absolute and utter nothingness. I tried to search my way through out, feeling for the boundaries of this strange place, but I quickly realised I had nothing with which to search. I was nothing but an incorporeal being lost in darkness. Then, there was a flicker of something else sharing the emptiness. It was an object even darker than the space around me, black upon black, seen off in the distance. I appeared to be drifting towards it, or it was coming towards me. Either way, it was growing, expanding through this space, making the darkness inky black. Then, I was jolted like someone had shocked me with a defibrillator. It was the blackness. Alec's ability had caged my mind, isolating it from my body and the rest of my senses, but he had never dealt with anything like the blackness before. Through it, my mind could perceive the outside world. Although the blackness worked by using touch to visualise objects, it was enough to understand what was happening outside my limp body. A bubble expanded from me. I lay flat on the ground unmoving, not even blinking. Alec and Jane were each standing over myself and Chloe respectively. She was on the ground, too, but the difference was she was not still. She was writhing, seizing, her arms clutching her chest and her legs drawn as close to her body as possible except for when spasms of agony caused her to kick out.

Jane was torturing her.

I detected vibration in the air that the blackness translated into sounds. It was Jane's icy, calm voice. She said, "What is it you people say these days? Oh yes, payback's a bitch. Too bad for you that I'm quite good at it."

The blackness beat against my skull until I felt like it was going to explode. There I was, a useless heap when my sister was suffering horribly, and I knew exactly how she was feeling. The blackness felt like a mass of fluid shoved into too small a vessel and was seeking any weakness to blast through. My body began to tremble as I detected Alec's surprised expression. Jane never lost her focus. She was kneeling beside my sister, looking down into her eyes. Jane asked, "Master, do we really need this one? I don't see how she might be of use to the Volturi. We have no need to manipulate the emotions of our adversaries."

Aro replied with his silky voice, "Patience my dear, we must deliberate. Caius, your thoughts?"

"Kill them both. Their abilities are powerful, and we may never be able to trust them fully. They are not worth the effort."

"I beg to differ in regards the older one. He may have great potential, and his loyalty might easily be assured with the proper leverage."

"You suggest we coerce him by threatening his sister's life? It will not work. She, too, would require constant supervision by either Alec or Jane in order to make sure that she stays in line, and we cannot spare either of them for such a menial task."

"Regrettably, I concur, but it is a shame to lose such exquisitely unique abilities. Such gifts do not emerge often."

"There shall be others, Aro. In time, abilities may arise in new vampires who might be more willing to serve us."

He sighed before saying, "Very well then. Marcus, are you in agreement?" He gave a slight nod, but I could detect what I interpreted as hesitation in his countenance. Aro continued, "Jane and Alec, if you will please, the young one first. To let her live would be the greatest travesty. If we allow one so close to the status of Immortal Child to carry on living, what example would it be to all others that we bent the rules we are meant to uphold." I noticed Caius's knowing smile. Aro said, "Alec, ensure she feels no pain. There is no need for cruelty."

Alec simply glanced at her and in a moment, her agonised screams stopped, her body lay limp. Jane was reaching for her greedily, her hands prepared to seize her neck, to end her life. Alec returned his attention to me, trying his best to box me in. The blackness punched the inside of my skull with such force that I thought it should bulge outwards. My limbs were trembling against the numbness that buried me under what felt like a tonne of ice. Alec's ability seemed to permeate my tissues, preventing me from moving a muscle in any useful way. The blackness, too, seemed impaired, too much so for me to use it physically. Jane was touching her skin now, her small fingers sliding around her throat but not quite meeting on her neck. I was frantic, forcing signals down my nerves, urging anything to work. Finally, I got control over my left arm. I propped myself up with it and stared Alec right in the eye. The others joined him in stunned silence as I mustered enough blackness to start three separate fires on his clothing. He desperately tried to put them out while simultaneously keeping Chloe and me immobilised.

It was too much. He let go of one of us, but it was too late.

Chloe screamed out in horror awakening to feel Jane's grip tighten on her while she tortured her with horrific pain. I tried to reach for her, but Alec was now redoubling his efforts on me, having put out the few measly fires I started on his jacket. This time though I was able to fight back, but my body was still infuriatingly limp. My hand reached out to my crying sister, as Jane ringed her neck with increasing force. Our fingertips touched just for a moment as she said, "I love you, I love…"

Splitting, sharp, remorseless splitting accompanied by a choking sound filled my ears as Jane finally crushed her neck. I cried bitterly, too much grief for me to even consider how intense my fury was. Jane stood over her kill, examining her with a malevolent smile like a cat studying a mouse it had toyed with before extinguishing it. Aro said, "Jane, my dear, that was quite distasteful. You should have allowed your brother to sedate her again."

"I apologise, master, but I could not allow her to use her ability on us once more…oh, look, she is reassembling."

Once second of hope was engulfed in flame as Jane withdrew a lighter from her pocket, ignited it, and dropped it upon Chloe's broken body. Flames spread over her body in a split second. What I could discern of her face was lost in terrible light. My wails grew louder. I still reached for her hand, even though it disintegrated with each passing moment. But a few minutes passed, and her body was no more than a pile of ash and embers quenching in the pounding rain. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to anymore. Part of me, a very big part, wanted to follow my sister, to welcome death with open arms. I lay unmoving, hoping they'd finish me soon until Aro said, "What a shame…"

Then that part of me that was furious, outraged, apoplectic, took control of my will and supercharged the blackness. It surged forward, freeing my body of Alec's grip. I stood before my enemies, my senses returned and my ability fired up, its every aspect at my disposal. Alec's waves of numbness seemed to wash up and over me now without much effect. I felt Jane drilling into me with pain like hot knives in my head, but it no longer mattered somehow. My emotions were boiling over, more than sufficient to fuel my power. I looked Aro right in the eyes, conveying my murderous intent. He only returned my crazed look with one of child-like awe, mesmerized by my resistance to his two prime weapons. I was going to murder him like he had my sister murdered. They all would suffer greatly and die slowly. I felt no need to speak any parting words before I butchered them. It was time to make them pay. I waved my arms at waist level from left to right and in reverse, casting black flames that encircled me. The heat was intolerable, but I was protected from it. The rain evaporated into a cloud of steam as it fell around me. The grass browned and burnt, despite the humidity.

Then, there was a momentary lull in the rainstorm. Sunlight broke through, shining down upon where I stood. I smiled to myself as true flames exploded upward, growing into a twister-like conflagration that spun and convulsed wildly. The towering flames shifted in unison, moving together like a swarm of wasps. Jane and Alec had already given up on their efforts to subdue me, retreating to Aro's side. The rain clouds cleared off to the north and as sunlight burst into the field, illuminating the complexion of every vampire, the fires morphed into a serpent form. It lowered itself, resting its body on the ground in front of me, before rearing its head and spitting flames in the face of the Volturi. They quickly backed off towards the tree line. The serpent reared up further, coiling around itself. Like the raptors before it, I was only vaguely in control, manipulating it from behind but most of its actions were independent of my will. As this fiery snake coiled and raised itself from the ground, preparing to spring, I heard Aro say, "Perhaps, dear ones, it is time we depart."

Caius replied, "I couldn't agree more."

I was definitely not allowing that. I forced the serpent to do my bidding though it writhed and thrashed against my influence. I made it straighten its body and rear up to its full height. As the Volutri turned to race back into the forest, I stretched my right arm out with my fingers pointing and in a quick, sweeping motion, brought it around to point straight ahead. The serpent dived right, incinerating all in its path before curving its body around and doubling back, crashing through the forest with explosive force. It was though the forest had been doused in gasoline. The serpent touched tree limbs, bushes, and leaf litter but from there, an inferno spread. The serpent was lost in its glare almost instantly, even the pine trees were nothing but thin, black outlines submersed in a wall of brilliant flame. I stuck my left arm out next and swivelled round to direct out behind me. The serpent re-emerged from the flames and set the whole meadow alight as far back as the foot of the hill. Only a patch of grass no bigger than a tennis court remained clear of flames and at the far end of it from me, Marcus lay on his back mere feet from the wildfire's edge. He had been the slowest to retreat. He had seemed very hesitant since Aro decreed we be executed and even more distracted after Chloe's death.

I thought I knew why.

I was well aware that my show with the serpent would cause such a reaction by Aro and the others. I knew, too, that my attack would be too slow to catch the majority of them before they cleared the meadow and disappeared deep into the forest. No matter, I only ever intended to catch Marcus. He scrambled to his feet and backed away from the fire without noticing my approach. I heard low grunts and saw movement as I neared him. To Marcus's left was another form whose black outfit had camouflaged him against a patch of charred earth. It was Demetri, dishevelled and disorientated but otherwise not worse for wear. Clearly, he had waited for his superior. I considered killing him there and then, but Marcus faced me now, so I restrained myself. I marched towards him and said, "Marcus, I'd like a word with you." Demetri tried to tackle me in defence of Marcus, but I isolated us both within a solid wall of blackness. He crashed into it and crumpled once more. I continued, "Do not worry yourself. I won't harm you."

"Your actions speak for themselves. Yet, it appears I have no choice but to listen."

"True."

"What do you want? I will have you know that given today's events, there is little I can do to change Aro's mind in regards you."

"I don't care about that anymore. My sister is dead. I have no further need to appease him. The only thing left to me is revenge."

"Don't you think that would be ill-advised?"

"You've seen what I can do. Do you really believe that?"

"It all depends on circumstances with you I sense. You might achieve the outcome you desire with brute force and a head-on assault, then again, you might fail miserably."

"Oh rest assured that from now on, I'll be working to raise the odds of the former outcome, starting with you."

"Me? What could you possibly want from me? I hope you don't think you can coerce me into helping you destroy my brethren."

"I don't need to coerce you. I have more effective methods."

Seeming a little amused now, Marcus replied, "What? Do you plan to torture me into submission?"

"No, I plan to tell you the truth, something that's been denied you a _very_ long time."

The smile that had briefly graced his expression was lost immediately replaced by dread, like he knew what I was about to tell him. He asked, "What truth?"

"About your wife, Marcus."

"My wife is dead." He tried to sound aghast, but the mere memory seemed to be crushing him.

I replied, "Yet, you never really found out what happened to her, to your Didyme."

The uttering of her name was akin to having his legs kicked out from under him. He was clearly not used to hearing it spoken aloud. He was distraught. Demetri was pounding at my barrier to no avail, trying to reach me. Marcus was choked up with sadness as he said, "She…she was killed…by rogue Romanian vampires…revenge for us defeating them and removing them from power."

"So your wife who never left the castle decided one day to go for a walk and never came back. All you found was her smouldering remains and a bracelet she once wore among them."

"Yes!" He shouted. "Why are reminding me of this?"

"Because all of that is a lie, and you know it. The real perpetrators have gone unpunished."

"I know that. They were never caught."

"No, you just never knew their true identities."

At this, he froze. He eyed me with a slack-jawed expression as though I had just told him I had evidence the world was flat, despite every fibre of his being telling him otherwise. He asked, "Who? Do you know? How do you know?"

"I have my sources. A few of your fellows back then didn't know how to keep their mouths shut. The information was passed on to a few who no one within the Volturi had any knowledge of. Since then, those few have either been killed or have isolated themselves. Only one ever passed on the knowledge before he was destroyed during the Southern Vampire Wars. The vampire he passed it to has kept the secret, waiting for a moment to use it. So she gave it to me today, knowing that if push came to shove, I'd pass it on to you."

"Who in the Volturi knows of this?"

"They don't just know, Marcus. You want to know who killed your wife? Well, he sits on a throne just to your left in that grand castle of yours."

Marcus looked shell-shocked. Even Demetri was stunned as he ceased his efforts to break through the barrier. Marcus could only utter, "This-this can't be."

"Yes it can."

"No, it is not possible. His own sister…"

"Don't be naïve, Marcus. You know Aro better than most. He changed Didyme in the hopes that she would possess an ability akin to his. That didn't happen, though. All she could do was make people happy. Now I'm sure that was a bummer for Aro, but it was nothing he couldn't live it, that is until you and Didyme fell in love. You two were going to elope together, leave the Volturi forever. I'm sure he didn't care if his sister disappeared off the face of the Earth, but you, no, you were too important. Your ability to discern relationships and how they bind your enemies together, that was a gift too valuable to just let go. But how could he stop you? He could not keep you by force, and he could not persuade you to stay, so he devised another plan. For, if Didyme was no longer a factor, why would you leave?"

"I did not leave out of loyalty!"

"Please. You haven't left because Chelsea's been tying your heartstrings oh so securely to Aro and the Volturi. Marcus, accept it. She was killed by your fellow leader for nothing more than his lust for power and how desperate he was to keep hold of it, to keep hold of you."

He was on his knees now, disillusioned, morose, and seemingly at a loss as to how to react otherwise to this revelation. Without looking in my direction, he asked, "Why did you think it appropriate to tell me this now?"

I shrugged and said, "Revenge purposes."

"You would have me turn on my comrades."

"They are not your comrades, Marcus. They've lied to you for millennia to have use of your ability, and to answer your question, frankly, I don't care what you do now. Whether you die trying to kill Aro or leave the Volutri forever, all I know is what has been said here can only mean bad things for your _comrades._"

"Mercy, compassion are qualities you seem to be without."

"I just watched my sister die horribly at the hands of a bunch of thugs who think they are the law. Do not expect pity from me."

He lifted his head a little now and said, "I've watched many heinous rulings passed by Aro over the millennia in a stupor of grief and regret. I apologise for your sister's loss. I should have spoken on your behalf."

I knew he was sincere, but it was meaningless now. I replied, "I'm not big on regrets either, and if I run for the hills now, I'm sure that will weigh on me for eternity, so here's the deal: I let you both out of here alive to do whatever you intend to with the information I've provided, and I get a secret in return."

"What would you like to now?"

"I need someone's location. The one who started all this hasn't been ticked off my to-kill-list yet."

"…Demetri can help you. Release your barrier."

I let it down, and he stepped forward warily. I watched his every move, readying my ability in case he made one misstep. He asked when he was six feet away, "Who do you seek?"

I whispered a name. He closed his eyes for a moment, but in the next, he was wide-eyed, saying, "She is close. The one you seek hides in a wooded area not far from a small town inside a collapsing farmhouse."

I smiled, then chuckled, much to the confusion of both Marcus and Demetri. I said, "What irony, seems I've come full circle."


	12. Chapter 12 The Woods

**11. THE WOODS**

I cut a swathe through the wall of flame in order to let Marcus and Demetri pass. I did not know what the man would do with the knowledge I'd given him. I was fairly certain his comrades awaited him not far from the edge of the flames, but they could not wait long. Already, distant sirens warned of multiple fire engines coming to quench the fires I'd started. I doubted they would have much of an ordeal on their hands as more rain clouds were moving in swiftly. Before the torrents of water could wash the site clean, I walked in slow-paced steps towards the place where Chloe had died. Looking down upon it, there was really nothing left, a rough outline of her body in the burnt soil and foliage with nothing else but ashes rapidly sinking into the wet ground. She had worn no jewellery, nothing that would not have been utterly destroyed by the venom-accelerated flames. I knelt down beside the ashes and placed a shaking hand down upon where her shoulder had been. There was still warmth there, but it faded as the breeze picked up and raindrops fell from the darkening clouds. I opened my mouth to speak but at first, I couldn't. I didn't have words for my grief, my shame, my regret, it wasn't as if words could make this any better or change anything. As it began to lash rain even heavier than before, I retracted my hand as the ashes were slowly swallowed by a muddy puddle. She had disappeared into nothingness, and words still escaped me.

I came to my feet trembling as the flames died and the meadow turned to a swamp. I really had nothing left to me but to seek retribution for all I had lost. It was then that I finally found something to say, "Forgive me, Chloe, for what I'm about to do. I know it is definitely not what you would want me to do, but I have no other choice. It's this or spend my existence on the run and alone for eternity. I can barely live with myself right now without acting, I won't be able to hold on for millennia. I'm not like the Genoans, I can't bide my time in the hopes that one day I'll have revenge for everything we've suffered. I have to do something now, and it has to start with the person who started all of this. I love you, Chloebear. I'll come back here someday, I promise. Goodbye."

The flames disappeared in a pall of smoke that smothered the meadow like a dense fog. Even I was having difficulty peering through it, so I doubted the humans would see me leave. I sped back the way I arrived, up and over the hill, heading south towards the place where I discovered who I truly was.

It took me five minutes to get back to Clare, running as fast as I possibly could. I couldn't take the chance that my quarry would move on. The road that led to the Woods had become even more worn since the last time I had been here. The tarmac was riddled with potholes interconnected by innumerable cracks. Grass grew down the middle of the road where car wheels never tread, and briars and weeds encroached from the ditches on either side. Trees, too, spread their branches well over the road with some overhanging so much as to leave very little room for even a car to pass. Then there, just a few hundred yards further up the road, I saw that old rusted gate. Things had changed a lot in three years, for I barely recognised my old playground. The trees had grown out and up to form a dense canopy that hid everything inside the gate from view, even without their leaves. The gate itself had come down and crumbled into rust amongst a thicket of weeds, grasses, and briars. Only the old support pillars, which themselves were nothing but warped concrete blocks, still demarcated where the entrance to the Woods used to be. I jumped clean over the gate but still landed in ankle-deep muck as water overflowed from the adjacent dikes, I guessed some things didn't change.

As I inched forward cautiously, I saw a lot of the grass had died away, buried under fallen twigs and leaf litter. Instead, what appeared to be daffodil buds peeked above the earth, heralding the arrival of spring. The old dirt path that led from the gate to the farmstead had long since disappeared, and the building itself was nothing but a decaying ruin. Half the stone house had fallen in, following the chimney into oblivion. All that was left was the arch of the front entrance and the room directly inside it. I peered through it, remembering Demetri had said my target hid inside the building. I sensed nothing though I knew a vampire was near. I strolled around the farmstead, stepping over fallen masonry as I went. I noticed the old fireplace and the tyre swing were both buried in dead vegetation with only their shapes obvious. The tree house no longer really could be called that as nothing remained but a few rotten planks and pieces of frayed rope from the bridge. I crouched down to examine one piece when a voice from behind startled me, saying, "I did not think to be seeing you again, Jason."

And there I was, face to face with her. I looked her straight into the eye and remembered her face well, as though I had taken a snapshot through my eyes. There she stood. The one who had made me all I was. She who had made me into something I could never have imagined was possible. She who had changed me, who had changed everything, and in that moment, all I wanted to do was kill her.

"_Sophia…_"

"So how did you find me?"

"…I had help from certain acquaintances of yours."

"Demetri, hmm, and how did you manage that?"

"I had some useful information for Marcus. He saw fit to do me a favour in return."

"And how did you find out about Didyme?"

She surprised me, but I maintained my look of nonchalance as I asked, "How do _you_ know?"

"Seriously, you haven't figured it out yet? I'm the one Aro had kill her." Now I was confused, and it probably showed in my expression. Why would Sophia ever do Aro a favour? Then, of course, she zoomed ahead with her explanation. "Of course, I have to give Carina some credit for luring her out of the castle, though the deed of killing her was mine alone. It was quite a deal actually, we killed Didyme and in return, we got free reign to do whatever we wished. Why do you think he's let us of the hook so much? He knew we participated in the Southern Vampire Wars, he knew we created Immortal Children, and he knew about the Atlanta incident. He's been lying to his fellows for centuries saying we had done nothing, or there was no proof of our illicit activities. It's been a fun millennium really."

"So…you were never really trying to claim territory here?"

"Well, it would've been nice to have a permanent residence somewhere, but most of what we do is for the thrill."

"Everything you've done was for _fun_?"

"Oh calm yourself, we never planned for you or your sister to do anything but be dinner."

"I guess you didn't plan for Danny to die either. Fun times, huh?" Her expression immediately went from one of smugness to one of icy hatred. She was trying to stay calm, probably so she could use her ability effectively if she needed to, but I pushed her further. "You know what his last words were before I snapped his head off and burnt him to cinders? 'My…my lady, I love you.'" I said it in a mock adoring tone. I continued, "How touching, how pitiful." She smouldered now, her breathing rate increasing and her shoulders squared and tense. I pressed further. "Oh you should know as well that your little cousin is dead. She seriously overplayed her hand…and underestimated us. You and your coven mates did that a lot. I think you give yourselves a lot more credit than you are due in the wits department." Her eyes were wide with bloodlust, her fists squeezed tightly and unfurled briefly every few seconds. I then said, "Oh I'm sorry, I should be saying "yourself" now, after all you are the only one left, last of the Genoans. Can you tell me can you have a coven of one 'cause that just sounds pathetic."

She trembled with rage as she said, "I've lived nearly two millennia, little boy. My coven will not fall before the likes of you. You will know suffering before I'm done with you."

"You promise, love?" She roared in fury before I said, "Bring it on, bitch."

For a second, I thought she wouldn't do it, that she was hesitating but then, she charged towards me full speed. She stopped but a foot away and took two swipes at my head, both of which I dodged without changing position. She continued to make useless strikes in her enraged state. I mocked her, laughing in her face, but I quickly grew tired of her ineptitude, so as she brought her arm down on my head for a tenth try, I sidestepped, and she fell forward. At that point, I caught her blonde hair and smacked her face into the tree that once held the old tree house. I then caught her around her waist and flung her as far as I could. She flew forty feet through the air before crashing into the undergrowth beyond the tree that once held the tyre swing. She was only stunned for a second and was back on her feet in less time than that.

To my surprise, she tried to do a runner.

I gave chase and with my superior speed, I was able to intercept her. She proved to be very agile, jumping against tree trunks and boulders, using them to propel her the opposite direction, but I caught her thigh in my hands mid-jump and swung her around hard against a large ash tree. She again regained her footing quite quickly but this time, I would not give her the opportunity to flee. I tried to rush her but found myself moving in reverse. I soon realised I was no longer on my feet and then, it hit me like a ten-tonne truck, a rush of energy that blasted me into a young tree, which snapped under the force of impact. I realised as I lay on the ground that she ran only to collect herself enough to use her ability. She marched towards me, and I sensed the barrier surrounding her as it crumpled the nearby vegetation. I should've been trying to get to my feet but for some reason I instead clasped my hand around something cold and hard, picked it up, and hurled it at her head. It turned out to be a rock, perhaps too large for a human to carry in one hand, but that was not what I really noticed.

It hit her, square in the face, bypassing her energy barrier.

It was then I realised that Sophia's ability had another shortcoming; she could only direct it against targets that she was focused on. She wanted to strike me, she wanted to crush everything around her for show, but the rock was unexpected and therefore, her barrier did not protect her from it. I saw opportunities all around me to exploit this failing. Using my ability, I weaved a tendril around a fallen tree trunk that lay nearby. It levitated straight up into the air in a fraction of a second before I shot it at her like a cruise missile. At the same time, I charged at her, hoping to distract her so either she would deflect away the tree trunk and I would reach her or she would try to hold me off but be bowled over by the tree, hopefully long enough for me to then land a final, precision blow.

It did not go as planned.

The rock caught her off guard but now that I was aware of her weakness, she seemed to be concentrating much harder, and it became quickly apparent that she could hold off multiple would-be attackers. I once again found myself flying backwards through the air and slammed hard into the earth whilst I watched the tree trunk being reduced to splinters as it impacted Sophia's barrier. I was only on my feet for another second when she was upon me. Her barriers closed in on me from all sides, oscillating like waves, making me feel like a rocky islet being battered on all sides by a towering storm surge. Then, as if reaching over the crests of these waves, she landed punches on my head and upper torso, and I felt my flesh crack open. As if her energy was really water, the waves rushed into these cracks, widening them with sharp splitting sounds. I knew her barriers would beat down upon me until I crumbled into dust, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Fear crept into the forefront of my mind, but not of death; it was fear of failing in the last thing I vowed to do for my sister; avenge her.

_I'm done for but at least I'd be with Chloe and my family now_.

Then Sophia screamed, "DIE! Die, you miserable piece of shit."

That angered me slightly, but the blackness was not roused. What was happening was that Sophia was also becoming _angry_. She raged at me for all I'd taken from her, and me looking her right in the eyes, without flinching, was only driving her to further fury. Her barriers that once felt like the simultaneous impact of four trains hitting me from each side was now more like being pounded by dozens of snowballs, an uncomfortable sensation but nowhere near as intense. I felt my arms and legs twitch as my ability to move slowly returned. It was then that I sensed a weakening in the barrier to my left, so I took my chance. I shouldered my way through it as hard as I could and landed on my left side with my arm pinned under me. Instinct told me to run, so I circled Sophia as fast as I could. Her barriers flew outward, missing me by a hair's breadth at times. I kept running, but she was getting closer with her aim, and one attack clipped my arm, sending me into a spin before another blast walloped me against the last standing wall of the farmstead. I leapt up again straight away despite the rubble that pinned me down, but I was no sooner standing before Sophia was right in my face, whacking me over the head with her forearm before catching my jacket and flinging clear across the woods. More waves of energy followed, accelerating me even faster until I found myself in free-fall. I wasn't in the air for long though before I smacked into the muddy earth.

Looking up, I saw I'd fallen over the edge of a sheer drop behind the farmstead. This was why my parents and those of my former friends never wanted us playing here. The steep drop was overgrown with thorny furze bushes, and sharp rocks jutted intermittently from the slick soil. Even if one were to survive a fall through that death-trap, the base of the cliff was a rocky, shallow stream with mucky banks that offered little to break a fall. Of course, being a vampire, I had no such worries. What concerned me was Sophia leaping over the edge of the cliff, aiming for a landing right on my chest. I rolled out of the way just in the nick of time. Sophia had drawn back her arm, prepared to use her momentum and strength to land a fatal blow. Instead, though, her arm sunk into the soft earth right past her elbow. She was crouched and withdrew her arm without much difficulty but not before I levelled a kick at her temple. She fell backwards, momentarily disorientated, as I aimed now to stamp on her head. My foot dropped smoothly at first until I felt resistance.

Sophia had grabbed my foot.

She twisted it around and pushed up against it, sending me hurtling into one of the deeper pools along the stream. I was submerged for a moment, trying to find purchase on the slippery pebbles, until, through the water, I saw the stream bed was becoming more distant. Then, I looked around to see water on all sides, but it was a thin layer that encased me, like a bubble. I was actually levitating above the stream. Then, without warning, I was cast through the air, the water ripped from my skin by a ferocious slipstream. I landed hard on something rigid and sharp. I was entangled in barbed wire from a fence that separated the Woods from a neighbouring field. Sophia stood on the opposite bank of the stream, seemingly daring me to make another move. I had none left, no plan for victory, no way of overcoming her. The fear of failure was overwhelming the blackness, and I couldn't get a hold of myself. She seemed impenetrable. Even her weaknesses were damn near impossible to exploit. What hope had I against such power without my own?

As I stared back at her without giving away any sign of my growing terror, my eyes seemed to lose focus on her and instead, they locked onto her surroundings. She stood on the muddy bank that was also strewn with pebbles from the stream and larger rocks. Twigs, sticks, branches, and entire tree trunks had fallen into the stream, damming it in places to from deeper pools. Something was coming to fore in my head, an idea forming.

Then, it occurred to me.

Me charging whilst I diverted her attention with the tree trunk was an obvious ploy and too easy to overcome. After all, she merely had to focus on two objects, but how many could she realistically keep track of?

_This calls for an experiment_.

Fighting past my fears that smothered me, I launched out a protective bubble to shield me from her energy blasts while I worked. Tendrils sprouted from the bubble's surface like weeds out of the crevices of a weathered building. These, in turn, split into smaller tendrils that hooked onto every object within reach. They enshrouded everything in a layering of blackness from my point of view and with an almighty effort, I heaved everything I'd gathered upwards. Everything levitated. Thousands of pebbles and twigs, hundreds of rocks and branches, and several boulders and tree trunks for good measure. They floated languidly for a moment, seeming totally innocuous. I saw Sophia's eyes dart around as she desperately tried to make note of every object soon to be a projectile. She looked frightened and if she decided it was best to run, there was no way I could shoot this lot after her.

I acted as she turned back towards the sheer cliff.

The objects swarmed around her as I swept them up into a twister of blackness. Sophia stood in the calm centre of the storm, as innumerable lethal weapons swirled around her. She must have believed she saw holes in the maelstrom for several times, she tried to escape, but she was thrown back each time. She tried to shield herself with a barrier and then step out, but it failed to keep the majority of the debris at bay. It was then I decided to close up the eye of the storm. At first, pebbles ricocheted off her skin and the twigs simply splintered without much effect. Then, larger objects closed in. Branches and bigger rocks smacked off her, smashing into smaller pieces that circled around and struck her again. The beating knocked her to her knees. Her skin fractured like stone struck with a hammer and did not reseal. Shards and splinters lodged themselves in the cracks, holding them open or forcing them wider. She hollered in agony, begged for mercy, barely audible above the tumult of smashing stones and snapping sticks. I ignored her, grinning maliciously.

Finally, I decided to bring in the big guns.

I deliberately kept the tree trunks and boulders separate from the twister and while keeping that going, I launched a boulder at her about half the size of a family car. It flattened her to the ground, but she managed to push it off with considerable effort. The tree trunks followed in quick succession. One pinned her right into the boulder, another swooped in and pounded off the side of her head, while another, I swung at her from behind like a giant baseball bat, smacking against her upper torso. She fell flat on her face, right at my feet, having been hurled across the stream. She only managed to push her body up on all fours. She was beaten. I noticed she was missing a hand. The other arm hung by a thread with most of the shoulder gone. Her right cheek had been sliced off, and a nostril was missing from her nose. She was riddled with cracks that could not reseal with all the debris that had buried itself deep into her skin. I no longer looked upon her with malice or rage, only pity. She seemed to seize on that, her expression hopeful and pleading. I knelt down in front of her. Her body trembled, and her expression implored me, begged. She uttered one world, "Mer-cy."

I looked away one brief moment. She began to sigh in relief until, in a lightning move, I did what I deemed to be mercy. I grabbed her head on both sides and simply ripped it off her body. My fingers released the severed head almost instantly, letting it roll down beside her waist.

It was over. The deed was done, but this was only the beginning of my revenge. The blackness smothered her remains, heating them until they ignited. Sophia was no more. The Genoan Coven was no more. They were some of the last vampires from an era long since passed, one that was no longer relevant. I would ensure her peers joined her. The Volturi were next.

I lingered in the field for untold hours. Giving myself the first chance I'd had to really think about all that had transpired. This only roiled up my emotions even more, and I just wanted to kill something. However, Marcus had been right, a frontal assault by myself alone would never work. I needed a plan, a good one.

Then, I sensed movement. The field I was in was vast and stretched for almost a kilometre to another road on the far side. That was where the sounds I was hearing were coming from. I tensed myself for the possibly of the Volturi following me here, Aro having probably interrogated Marcus. However, a resonant moo quickly assuaged my anxiety.

A farmer was simply letting a herd of cattle into the field to graze. The animals filed in in a strangely orderly manner before the farmer closed the gate behind them. As they dispersed throughout the field, grazing furiously, I realised how exposed I was here. It was a miracle that the farmer hadn't seen me standing on the far side of this flat, open field. I decided I'd head east and retrieve the bag of money and other items I'd buried off the dual carriageway. I hoped the water hadn't gotten to it.

Then, I heard a new sound.

It sounded like another cow but deeper and more aggressive. It was then I saw the massive bull heading towards the herd of cows, entering from another field adjoined to this one. He was only a hundred yards away from me and had not missed my presence there. It bellowed at me, posturing. I had not expected that. Most animals seemed to be afraid of vampires. Perhaps his instinct to defend his territory and his herd were stronger than his instinct for self-preservation. He was tensing his legs now, and scuffing the earth with his front-right leg. I decided best to ignore the bull and walk away, after all what could he really do to me.

It was the moment I moved that he charged.

I could easily out run the ungainly animal, but something told me to stand my ground. The bull did not stop. It smacked into my chest, its stubby horns catching under my armpits. With that leverage, it raised me up in the air and swung me down again, pressing me hard into the mucky grass. If I were human, I would already have suffered severe internal injuries and any number of broken bones, death wouldn't be long coming. However, for me, the sensation was dulled almost, and I felt like I was just being shoved around gently. I decided enough was enough. As much as the situation amused me, I had more important things to do. I reached for the bull's horns and with a quick flick of my wrists, yanked them both out of his head. The bull howled, its eyes wide with shock. Blood spurted from the gaping head wounds.

_Blood, lots of it, dripping, warm. I feel so hungry._

The animal stumbled backwards completely disorientated. I was still unsure of what I was doing, but instinct was behind the wheel now. I caught the one-tonne animal around the neck and flung it on to its side. It kicked its legs but was too weak to put up much of a fight. Some of the bull's blood had smeared on my hands. I tasted it tentatively while holding the bull down with one arm. It was unlike human blood in that, it was satiating my hunger but wasn't quite as satisfying. It did not matter, though. I'd tasted blood and now I could not stop. I found the greatest blood flow in the arteries running in the bull's throat and sunk in my teeth. The blood gushed out as the animal seized. It might not have been as satisfying, but there was certainly more of it. I took several minutes to drain the bull dry. It held out quite a long time, dying only when the last of its blood had left its body. I released the bull's head which fell limp on the ground with a thump and stood over my kill.

Animal blood. I can drink animal blood.

Hysterical laughter overtook me, as I eyed the terrified herd of cattle.


	13. Epilogue Likeminded

**EPILOGUE: LIKEMINDED**

The scents of nature were all around. The fresh aroma of pine, the cleansing rain and cool breeze wafting through the trees from the mountains, but most importantly, the scent of prey. I'd been tracking a herd of deer moving east further up the slope, their scents were sweet in an earthy sort of way but still fairly bland. I darted lithely amongst the thick undergrowth of ferns and fallen branches, coming ever closer to my quarry until they were within sight. I hid behind a particularly thick-trunked pine tree and peered out at the herd. A few does meandered around a clearing where tall grass grew with wild flowers blossoming amongst it. I was well up the mountain here, and the sun shone brightly, as I was above the cloud deck. My skin sparkled brilliantly wherever the rays of sunlight fell upon my bare skin. I hoped it wouldn't give me away and as soon as the thought crossed my mind, the deer suddenly became alert and split, heading for the treeline on the far side of the meadow. I grumbled in frustration and made ready to give chase until a new scent filled my airways. It was stronger, fragrant, much more appetising. The source of the smell was a heavy animal as I heard its powerful footfalls as it chased the does into the forest. Peering out again, I saw what my new target was.

A huge male grizzly bear.

I stepped out from my cover into the clearing. The bear had given up the chase, panting with fatigue. He had probably been setting up an ambush before I arrived and startled his intended prey. He must have smelt me, for he turned on his heels in a quite graceful move for such a bulky creature. He roared viciously, edging forward all the while. I stood my ground unflinching. This reminded me of my encounter with the bull back in Ireland a few months previous. I had travelled much since then, traversing Europe via Britain, swimming the English Channel, crossing France, Germany, Poland, and finally disappearing into the Siberian wilderness. I knew full well that I was being tracked by the Volturi. I had tried to shake them throughout my travels, escaping their surveillance only occasionally until I lost my tail somewhere near Lake Baikal. From there, I headed generally north-east, avoiding humans as much as possible, sticking to the rugged countryside.

I had hunted many different animals in that time, noticing that prey animals were far less satisfying than predators. However, such animals were often hard to come by, so I resorted to chasing down deer, bison, and wild goats, trying to target stags and bulls as much as I could for their greater blood volume. I had done my best to avoid domesticated animals in that time, for my frenzy after my first animal feeding resulted in a number of newspaper articles in Europe covering reports of strange farm animal deaths from Ireland's Mid-West to western Russia. I figured as well that the Volturi were using those reports to better track me.

I had reached Russia's most eastern tip before I decided to swim the frigid waters of the Bering Strait to Alaska. Having hunted animals all down the western coast of North America, I had noticed whenever I saw my reflection in a pool of water or in a window that my eyes were a different shade. They started fading from vivid crimson to light red after my first animal kill. Then, slowly, as I travelled Europe, they changed to a deep carrot orange to amber until finally, they were golden. I assumed it was a result of my new diet, but this was something none of the others had told me about. I wondered were Fiona and Dermot or the members of the Irish Coven even aware that animal feeding was a possible alternative. I imagined if Fiona did then she would jump at the chance to have some sustenance other than human blood. I thought as well that Dermot might enjoy the sport of hunting animals instead of humans. I couldn't speak for Siobhan's coven, but I suspected they were much older and maybe too set in their ways. It had been hard to part with them all, but if I contacted any of them then the Volturi would know they were somehow involved with me. Therefore, I decided to hide out in the Americas for a time until I had a better plan of action. I eventually hoped to get to the Amazon, an animal buffet and the best hideout.

I had only arrived in these dense forests west of the Rockies a few days previous. I wasn't sure exactly where I was or if I'd crossed the Canadian border yet, but the hunting sure was good, especially for the predator kind. The grizzly reared up on his hind legs, making an impressive show of his height and bulk. However, when I did not back down, he returned to all fours and charged. I stood still and waited for the impact of the bear's massive body brought to bear on my seemingly more fragile torso. He stalled right before me however and continued to roar.

I grew tired of this game, so I decided to play with my food.

I snarled at the bear and struck him across the jaw with an open hand. The strength of the blow startled the bear momentarily, but thereafter, he was none too pleased. He reared up again, this time pressing his massive paws down on my shoulders with his jaws snapping mere inches from my face. I was able to bear his weight easily though, and I grabbed his paws in my hands, pushing them off me whilst kicking the bear's legs. One blow ended in a resonant crack, which left the bear yelping and whining before it tried to retreat with a broken right hind leg. I laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. I easily kept pace with the injured animal that still tried to pick up speed. I could hear his heart racing, pumping harder to try to force his working limbs to carry him faster and faster. I kept toying with him for a few moments longer until I could longer resist the rich blood I could hear flowing in his veins. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tackled him to the ground. He screeched in pain as too much weight was put on his injured leg. Once I had him down, I found his throat and sunk in my teeth. He fought back as I drained him, but his struggles steadily became weaker until his heart gave out.

I was not yet finished feeding on the bear when I became aware of something approaching. I heard many footfalls coming in from all sides, moving very, very fast.

_Vampires!_

I immediately was on my feet. I sniffed the air and turned around fully to give my ears a chance to gather as much sound as possible. I could definitely hear six vampires incoming, and a seventh set of footfalls that sounded more akin to a large animal. They were getting close, my eyes detected movement just beyond the treeline. I was still in hunting mode, so my instinct was to defend my kill from any competitors. I tensed my body, braced to spring on any who dare take what I had hunted down. I faced towards the west side of the clearing, for it seemed all but two of them were coming from that side. I saw shadows in the treeline. They were almost upon me.

They emerged from the trees into the sunlight, sparkling brilliantly.

There were five of them in front of me as I'd predicted, three females and three males. The lead male was a kindly- looking blonde with a slight smile on his face. He was flanked by two younger-looking vampires. One sported longish, golden locks and the other wore his bronze hair messy. Both of the younger males regarded me coolly, even with some mild aggression, but I remained surprisingly unfazed. The two females were strikingly beautiful in very different ways. The one to the right of the lead male, standing directly behind the vampire with the golden locks was short and petite, almost pixie-like in appearance, with an innate prettiness about her. She seemed very perky, too, and favoured me with quite a generous grin. The female who stood behind the messy-haired vampire was beautiful in a more classical sense. She had long, flowing, straight blonde hair, and her facial features were all perfectly symmetrical. Her body, too, was difficult not to appreciate with her slender form and long legs. She seemed to be the most hostile of the lot, but I wasn't sure if that was only because she had noticed how I looked at her. It was then that another vampire approached me from the right. He was massive and intimidating, reminding me of Danny and Liam. He had black hair that was cropped very short and could easily pass as a soldier if he had a uniform, I thought. He had approached a little closer than the others and seemed to be eyeing my kill. Against my better judgement, I automatically turned to face him and growled. However, he simply grinned and put his hands up in a submissive gesture. His expression seemed to be more impressed than anything else once I'd cooled off enough to think about it. Finally, the owner of the strange set of footfalls I'd heard earlier entered the clearing.

It was a wolf, a humungous, russet wolf.

I was so startled and so taken aback that I let my jaw drop and my eyes bulge out of their sockets. Left looking stupidly speechless by the giant wolf, I swore the other vampires started laughing. Even the most of them were smiling now. I wasn't sure how to react, but a blush would look suitable with my expression if I could still blush. It was then that the lead vampire spoke, but he was looking at the wolf, "Jacob, tell Sam thanks for letting us handle this one."

I was totally confused now, but to my further astonishment, the wolf nodded and ran back into the forest. I looked right at the lead vampire now, and I noticed something about him and his fellows; they all had golden eyes like mine. He was about to speak when I blurted out, "You're animal feeders, like me."

He replied, "Indeed we are, and you are the first such vampire we've come across in quite a long time. That's quite an accent you have there, Irish?" I nodded in the affirmative and he continued, "You've come a long way."

"The long way round, too. Siberia's a great place to lose people."

"Oh? Who would you want to lose?"

I hesitated a moment, but there was something very trustworthy about the blonde vampire and so I said, "The Volturi." At that, they all lost their smiles and glanced at each other with apprehension. The lead vampire asked, "Why would you be running from them?"

"…I have certain abilities that Aro would like to possess."

He nodded and said, "Indeed, there are those amongst my coven that Aro covets a great deal. So what are your plans?"

"Keep heading south, hold up in Amazonia for a while until I can think of something better to do."

"Would you consider staying with us for the time being at least? You would be as safe with us as you would be anywhere else."

I mulled over his offer. The two young male vampires and the blonde female seemed to await my response with some trepidation. The pixie-like vampire smiled at me genially, welcomingly. I looked over to the hulking male vampire to my right. His grin and manner reminded me of Dermot, and he even nodded encouragingly as if to say, "Say yes". The lead vampire just maintained his slight smile as he awaited my response. I realised I had nothing to lose by staying and perhaps I had a lot to gain here, friends, allies even. We seemed to share a common distaste for the Volturi and all they represented. After about thirty seconds, I simply replied, "Thank you, I would very much like to stay."

The pixie-like female and hulking male walked right up to me, followed closely by their leader. The other three did not move and simply looked accepting of the situation, although I thought the blonde female looked a little irritated. The pixie female threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly, a gesture I was too stunned to return. She said, "I'm Alice. It's great to finally meet you, Jason."

I raised an eyebrow and said, "How…"

The big vampire patted me hard on the back and said, "Don't worry, kiddo. Alice just has a knack for knowing things in advance. You'll get used to it. I'm Emmett by the way," he said roughly shaking my hand. He continued, "By the way, you did quite a number on that bear. I'm impressed."

"Ah, thanks."

The leader shook my hand last and said, "I'm Carlisle Cullen, leader of this coven, welcome to the Olympic Peninsula."


End file.
